Darkness Dying
by Iniga
Summary: It’s 1980. James is afraid to think. Sirius is afraid to act. Remus is afraid to speak. Peter is afraid to confess. In other words, an answer to the old question: how could Sirius suspect Remus? Written prior to OotP, HBP, and DH. Now slightly AU. Done.
1. Strawberry Moon

"**Darkness Dying"**

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize characters, settings, or events, that's almost certainly because they belong to JKR and her publishers. I am neither JKR nor one of her publishers. By the transitive property, I own nothing.

**First Posted: **October 2001. That means not canon-compliant with OotP, HBP, or DH as it was written before their publication. In particular, Peter Pettigrew as a young man here doesn't mesh with J.K. Rowling's portrayal in the pensieve in OotP, and the prophecy predicting Harry's defeat of Voldemort does not exist.

**Summary: **It's 1980. James is afraid to think. Sirius is afraid to act. Remus is afraid to speak. Peter is afraid to confess. In other words, an answer to the age-old question: how could Sirius suspect Remus?

**June 28, 1980: Strawberry Moon**

It was the evening of the Strawberry Moon, and Sirius grew nearly giddy with delight as he and his two companions drew closer to the tiny cabin. It had been built and abandoned long ago; from its ramshackle appearance, no one would ever have guessed that it was reinforced to contain a wild creature of boundless determination and enormous strength. So far as Sirius and his friends knew, no one recalled the cabin's existence; and therefore the possibility that someone might realize that it was not what it seemed to be was moot.

Drawing a finger to his lips to silence James and Peter, Sirius pulled his wand from his belt and held it against his throat. He then murmured a charm that would temporarily alter his voice. A slow smile spread across James' face as he cottoned on to Sirius' plan. Peter looked torn between admiration for the odd ways in which Sirius' mind worked and sympathy for Sirius' victim.

Sirius approached the dilapidated structure and pounded on the door.

"IS SOMEONE IN THERE?" he bellowed. "WHO LOCKED THIS DOOR? THIS SHED IS ON _MY_ MANOR, AND I'LL NOT HAVE SOME COMMON RIFFRAFF USING IT FOR A HIDEOUT!"

It took but a moment for the door to unlatch, seemingly of its own volition. Behind the door stood a frightened-looking Remus Lupin.

The fright on Remus' face vanished almost instantly. "Padfoot, that is about as far from being funny-- James?" he interrupted himself.

"At your service." James swept into a low bow.

"You shouldn't be here!"

James shrugged and brushed past Remus into the cabin. "I've been here loads of times and you've never had a problem with it before."

"But Lily is eight months along!" Remus exclaimed, as if James did not know.

Sirius cocked his head in thought as he, too, entered the cabin. He turned around theatrically in the small space. "It does seem rather odd that you would leave your wife at a time like this." A warning look came into James' eyes, but Sirius either did not notice or did not care. "I would think that you would want to be home, asking her how she feels every few seconds and stomping around the nursery wondering if you should change the colors again. Unless . . . Lily kicked you out?" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Lily did not kick me out," James said witheringly.

"She kicked him out," Sirius mouthed to Remus and Peter, who had also come into the shed and re-locked the door. The manor house to which the shed belonged was some distance away, but nonetheless it would not do for the foursome to draw attention to themselves.

"She suggested that I come out here tonight. She likes Remus. She thinks I should be here. That is in no way comparable to 'kicking me out.'"

"She _suggested_ that you come _here_ and spend time with people other than _her_. And notice that Remus tried to get rid of you, as well. Face it, Prongs," Sirius declared, spreading his arms wide. "Nobody likes you."

James hung his head obediently. "Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms," he said sadly. His sorrow would have been more convincing, however, had he not been smirking. His marriage to Lily was something out of a fairy tale, and everyone present knew it.

"See, Moony, we have to let him stay," Sirius took up. "We can't leave him alone eating worms. It wouldn't be right."

Peter nodded in agreement. "Besides, this is the only time when we don't have to think about, well, you know . . ." he trailed off.

Sirius did know. Everyone in the wizarding world knew; a war was a difficult thing of which to remain unaware. He did, however, dislike the tendency of many wizards and witches to say "you know" instead of "the war." Professor Dumbledore, a man whom Sirius admired nearly to the point of hero-worship, had long been attempting to convince his fellow warriors to call their enemy by his name, "Voldemort," instead of by the moniker many had adopted: "You-Know-Who." Yes, everyone knew who. According to Dumbledore, though, the population at large would be less frightened if people would simply _say_ the name of the Dark wizard who frightened them. A word was only a word. By the same token, then, Peter should have said "This is the only time when we don't have to think about the war."

Sirius was too fond of Peter to reprimand him over such a thing, however. Peter had told Sirius in prior discussions that he simply disagreed with Dumbledore. The people of the wizarding world were frightened enough as it was. They were frightened to speak to strangers; they were frightened to socialize; they were frightened to shop; they were frightened to allow their children to go to school; they were frightened even to go outdoors. For the most part, though, the wizards and witches in questions swallowed their fears and continued on with their lives. Why, then, should they be forced to do one more thing which frightened them and speak the name of the Dark Lord? Such was Peter's logic.

Peter happened to be correct in this case, Sirius mused, no matter what his choice of words had been. On the night of the full moon, everything seemed simpler. Fear and cynicism melted away in favor of the raw emotions involved in curbing the destructive tendencies of a werewolf who happened to be a close friend. Although Sirius was not prone to long bouts of introspective behavior, he was fully aware that Remus' lycanthropy was the tie that bound the four friends together two years after leaving Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Friends often drifted apart during the transition from student life to adult life. The danger of such a rift was especially strong during a time of war that required all full-fledged members of society to work long hours to the exclusion of socialization of any sort. But Sirius, James, and Peter were unwilling to forgo their tradition of Apparating to a fore-chosen location to meet Remus on the night of the full moon. Ministry paperwork, Quidditch schedules, course outlines, training programs, and secret errands run for Professor Dumbledore all became irrelevant when one thought of Remus' predicament.

Remus' transformations were not nearly so violent or painful now that he had survived adolescence, but his friends still refused to allow him to face his monthly ordeal alone when they could avoid it. Sirius, James, and Peter were all able to read lunar charts as well as Remus himself could, and they made arrangements months in advance when a blue moon or a total lunar eclipse, as had occurred the previous September, threatened to send Remus' wolf-form into a frenzy of self-mutilation.

During those months when schedules and routine transformations prevented the foursome, or parts of the foursome, from meeting, Sirius still thought often of his friends. The moon, full or not, reminded him of all that they had achieved together. Each transformation into his animal form had the same effect. _James. Remus. Peter._ Their lives at Hogwarts had been so inextricably linked to Sirius' own life that even thinking their names could still bring a smile to his face.

The evening light was dying, and Sirius was brought back to the present place and time by Remus' shudder. The transformation would soon begin. "I should take these off," Remus said, gesturing to his robes. The robes were the oldest ones he owned, and were well-worn already, but Remus obviously hoped that they would survive to serve during a few more transformations.

"YES! TAKE THEM OFF!" Sirius immediately shouted.

"TAKE IT ALL OFF!" James joined in.

Sirius and James grinned at each other and began to chant in chorus: "HO, HO, HEY, HEY, MAKE THE WOLF GO ALL THE WAY! HO, HO, HEY, HEY, MAKE THE WOLF GO ALL THE WAY! HO, HO, HEY, HEY, MAKE THE WOLF GO ALL THE WAY!"

Peter and Remus rolled their eyes at one another. "Want me to take your wand?" asked Peter gently.

"Thanks," answered Remus gratefully, handing the slender stick to his friend.

Peter carefully averted his eyes as Remus began to remove his clothing. Instead, he focused on the still-hollering Sirius and James. "I still can't believe them sometimes," he commented softly.

"Neither can I," admitted Remus.

"You can't BELIEVE us?" Sirius interrupted in mock indignation, having broken off his chant. "You think I'm a liar. I'm hurt. Aren't you hurt, James?"

"After the way you've all treated me tonight, I don't think I can be hurt any more," sniffed James.

"See what you've done to the poor deer?" asked Sirius. "Pun intended."

"I've been pun-ished enough, Padfoot," James returned.

"I think we'd better pun-ctuate this argument before it goes any further," Sirius concurred.

"I agree. We don't want to be too pun-chy tonight."

"No. The rising of the moon is a very pun-ctual thing."

Remus and Peter observed this performance in a mixture of awe and disgust. "Wormtail?" asked Remus in a stage whisper. "How would you feel about leaving them here tonight?"

Peter did not have a chance to reply, because Remus' body shuddered once more. "Go change. Now," Remus commanded tightly. Peter, James and Sirius hastily scrambled outside the shed. There they became rat, stag, and dog; and moments later a mournful howl told them that Remus had transformed as well.

Padfoot, the black dog so enormous he hardly seemed to be a dog at all, nudged at the door with his nose and barked sharply. His bark was answered with a challenging snarl, and the door shot open quickly beneath the werewolf's weight.

At first, the wolf seemed to be infuriated at the mere existence of the world. The sight of the other animals calmed him, though, and the rest of the night was spent playing at games to which the rules did not particularly matter.

The next morning, the small group Apparated itself to Remus' flat. When James, Sirius, and Peter had assured themselves that Remus' injuries were minor and that he needed nothing more than sleep, they left him to it.

At the last instant, Sirius failed to raise his wand and turned to face Remus. "You're certain you're all right?" he asked.

"I've been doing this for sixteen years, Padfoot," answered Remus wearily. "You and James and Peter don't need to take a night out of every month to look after me."

"It makes us horrible people, I know," Sirius agreed.

"There are plenty of reasons why you're horrible people."

Sirius smiled and disappeared.

**July 31, 1980**

As it happened, Remus did pass the next full moon alone. Lily was then mere days from giving birth to her and James' first child, and a particularly brutal Death Eater attack forced both Ministry workers like Peter and aurors-in-training like Sirius to work especially long, hard hours.

Four days after the full moon, then, he was surprised to see his fire spring to life. He had been quite contentedly simplifying a lesson plan a Ministry official had suggested for the youngest students at one of the wizarding primary schools that had remained in business despite the war. The school was currently offering three-week summer sessions at which the children could learn simple tricks to defend against Dark Magic. Of course, these slights of hand and pieces of knowledge would never save a life; but, to some extent, they soothed the fears of children and parents. That alone made the classes worthwhile. However, the Ministry workers who were by law required to approve the plan had no idea as to how much information of what form young children were capable of digesting. Remus seemed to have a gift for such work, and as it allowed him to avoid human contact during the days surrounding his transformation, he was more than pleased to do it. Additionally, his hours were flexible, and he was therefore able to do any secret work that Dumbledore requested of him quite easily. James was in a similarly convenient position. He played Quidditch professionally and cultivated a stupid-athlete persona only as a cover; in truth, his energy was focused on the war.

James, as it happened, was the one who was calling Remus.

"James?" he asked, slightly startled.

"Get to Saint Mungo's. Now," was all James said before vanishing.

Remus jumped up and fumbled for his canister of Floo Powder. _Something must have gone wrong with Lily and the baby_ his mind chanted urgently. Today was Lily's due date; it had been circled on the calendar of each of her friends for months.

He threw the powder into his fire and seconds was in the entryway of the famed magical hospital. Once there, he looked around, temporarily helpless. James had only said to come to Saint Mungo's.

"Over here!" called a sign. Remus walked over to read it. "What are you looking for?" the sign prompted, not content with the speed at which Remus was reading.

"Maternity?" asked Remus dumbly.

"Give me a _name_," the sign demanded disdainfully. "A doctor. A patient."

"Potter."

The sign transformed itself into a flashing arrow. "Follow me!" it commanded, scooting down a corridor and turning sharply to the left. "At the top," it announced when it reached a moving staircase. "Have a nice day."

At the top of the stairs there was indeed a small waiting room, inhabited by three familiar figures. James was walking rapidly around the room's perimeter and Sirius was chasing him. Peter, though, was sitting down and looking relatively calm, so Remus was able to assume that the situation was more desperate in James-world than in the ordinary world.

"Remus!" James stopped abruptly and Sirius nearly slammed into his friend. "What took you so long?"

It had been considerably under five minutes since James' disembodied head had barked instructions into Remus' small flat, but Remus replied nonetheless. "I had a disagreement with a sign."

James shook his head. "You should have hexed it."

"Because hexing in a hospital is such a good idea," completed Sirius flatly.

"Why _are_ we in a hospital?"

"My _child_ is being born?" suggested James in a tone something like the one the sign had used.

"Why didn't the healer just go to your house?"

James threw his hands in the air. "Lily feels better about doing it this way. From a Muggle family. Most Muggles have their children in hospitals."

"Lily never wants to do things the Muggle way," Remus observed. It was true, too; from the time he had first met Lily, at age eleven, the Muggle-born witch had been eager to learn anything and everything about the magical world. Her curiosity and determination had led to her appointment to the position of Head Girl at Hogwarts and to a place in Professor Dumbledore's elite group of defenders against Voldemort.

"This time she did," said James.

"Why are you out here?"

"It's the way they do it, for the most part." He looked worriedly toward a closed door.

"I'm sure she's all right. This happens every day," Remus said, though his words sounded somewhat hollow.

Sirius, standing out of James' line of sight, rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"It doesn't happen to me every day," James returned. He resumed his earlier pacing. "What were we _thinking_, bringing a child into this kind of a world? Did you read the Daily Prophet today?"

"Are you implying that you read something besides your Quidditch statistics?" Sirius interrupted.

Remus shot Sirius a silencing look. Sirius snorted. "I've heard everything he has to say already. In two minutes you'll want me to help you shut him up." He flopped down into a chair beside Peter.

Remus returned his attention to James. "Yes, I read the Daily Prophet today."

"There was another attack."

"I know."

"How incredibly selfish is it of me to bring a defenseless little human being into this situation? That's part of the reason we decided to do it, you know. Why we got married right out of Hogwarts. Why we're having a child when we're barely twenty years old. If you want to do anything in times like these, you have to do it right away, before you lose your chance."

"Well, you didn't lose your chance."

James, having already found a new subject, ignored Remus. "Did you know that they put charms on these doors so you can't make them transparent?" he asked, giving the whole of his attention to the mentioned door.

"I wonder why," said Remus dryly.

"Told you you'd come around to my point of view. Told you so," Sirius yelled out.

Remus' eyes drifted from Sirius to James and back again. "We have to calm him down before he sprains something." He sat down on Sirius' other side.

"That's what I've been saying. They frown on using magic in the waiting rooms, but we could always hit him over the head."

"The cure might be worse than the problem."

"But we wouldn't have to listen to him any longer."

"We could get him to think about something else."

"Not likely. He won't even talk about his Quidditch stats."

"I suppose he wouldn't."

"Look. He doesn't even care that we're talking about him like he's not even here. Ordinarily, he hates that. He doesn't even like it when we talk to him about something we've obviously talked about among ourselves before."

In fact, James was ignoring his friends entirely and was pacing wildly across the room. Each time he reached a wall, he un-balled his fist and slapped it before turning on his heel and crossing the room again. Eventually, he became tired of this state of things and sank down against the wall that concealed Lily.

Sirius rose to his feet, closely followed by Remus and Peter.

"Prongs." James did not respond. "How many Snapes does it take to light a candle?" Sirius was not above resorting to insulting former classmates when he was looking for a surefire way to make his friends laugh.

"How many?" asked James warily.

"Three. One to light the candle and two to pull his greasy hair out of his eyes so he can see what he's doing."

Sirius gave Remus a hard nudge, and Remus assumed that it was his turn. "How many Lestranges does it take to light a candle?"

"How many?" asked Sirius.

"Just the one. He marries a woman smart enough to do it for him."

"Also true of our James," Sirius pointed out. "Peter? Your turn."

Peter shook his head. "Just leave him alone." Peter adored James (not that Remus and Sirius did not) and he hated to see him in any sort of distress or to tease him in any way.

Peter, Remus reflected, always supported the member of the odd quartet who was currently the object of the others' ridicule. Although the mockery was never sincere-- it was in fact intended to make its target relax and not take life too seriously-- Peter rarely joined in. He seemed to fear that he would cross the line from friendly teasing into malice; he was one of those rare victims of schoolboy scorn who recalled how he felt as a victim when he was placed in a position of power. The teased often made the most vicious teasers; but such had never been the case with Peter. Peter was willing to join in verbal sparring matches only when it was required to keep from insulting the target-- for example, Remus suspected that Sirius would be deeply offended if he passed a day during which no one told him to shut up.

As it happened, though, no one was forced to come up with a new way to keep James from climbing the walls. A healer's assistant poked her head out from the door and asked the father-to-be to come inside, as the moment of birth was near. James was gone with a quickness not matched even by his speed on a broomstick.

His three friends eagerly awaited his return, which was not overly long in coming. James had run into the room breathless and full of uncontrolled energy. When he returned, though, his movements were anything but uncontrolled. In his arms he carried a tightly-wrapped bundle which could only be one thing. Sirius was at James' side instantly, with Remus and Peter a half-step behind. "Can I . . .?" Staring at the black-haired infant in his friend's arms, Sirius seemed to be experiencing a rare bout of speechlessness. James, however, understood.

"Of course. He's your godson." James angled himself to transfer the child to Sirius' embrace.

"It's a boy, then?" asked Sirius, almost hesitantly taking the baby and staring down at it.

"Harry James."

"Naming him after yourself?" Sirius raised his eyebrows.

James nearly blushed. "Lily insisted."

"How is she?" asked Remus.

James beamed. "Wonderful. The healer said she'd call us back in in a minute. They're just finishing up. You should have _seen_ Harry when they checked him out and put the protective spells on him. He didn't cry at all."

Harry's eyes had been open when he and James had first emerged, but now he had fallen asleep; and Sirius was careful not to wake him as he handed him to Peter. Peter smiled first with wonder and then with amusement. "He's got hair just like yours."

All four chuckled in agreement, and James directed his attention to Harry. "I am so, _so_, sorry," he whispered.

"Think of all the galleons you'll save on combs," Sirius suggested. "They won't do any good, so you won't have to buy any."

James stood transfixed, not responding to Sirius' barb. "I can't believe I have a son. I barely feel older than him, myself."

"Oh, come on. You and Lily have been paragons of maturity and virtue ever since you got together. If not before. _Your_ having a child is perfectly sensible. It's not like you're me."

"Exactly what I want to hear from his godfather." James seemed to come back to himself slightly. "Peter, give him to Remus."

Remus shook his head. "That's illegal."

James growled. "It's a _stupid_ clause that they put in to pass a _stupid_ law, and it won't stand up when someone challenges it, anyway."

Remus considered reminding James that he had no way of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that the law forbidding werewolves from touching children beneath a year in age had no merit, but decided that such a suggestion would only anger the new father further. Additionally, he had no desire to detract attention from James by slipping into what he had to admit was perilously close to self-pity. Thus, he held out his arms and accepted the still-sleeping infant. The four young men stood grouped tightly around the child as if in awe of him, and Remus thought with a smirk how amused their ten- or even five-years-younger selves would have been to see this spectacle.

"But Moony?" asked James.

"Yes?"

"You can't play with him on the full moons until he's at least fifteen."

"You expect he'll be an Animagus by then?" asked Sirius with a grin.

James nodded firmly. "He's Lily's and mine, after all."

"Will he be a stag, too?" Sirius tilted his head as if to get a clearer look at Harry. "I think he looks dignified and noble, don't you? We could call him 'Pronglet.'"

James did not answer because the healer emerged once more. "If you'd bring the baby back to his mother?" she asked, smiling at the little group.

"Thank you. Come on," commanded James.

"James?" Remus dropped his voice almost to a whisper in deference to Harry. "I doubt that Lily wants us all to go in there."

"That's where you're wrong. She specifically said that she did. _And_ she specifically said that you would be the one who'd be thoughtful enough to consider that she might not want you to, and then she said something about wondering why someone as nice as you put up with the rest of us. And that rather put me out. So come on, before I become _further_ put out."

They left the waiting room in a soft wave of snickers.


	2. Sturgeon Moon

**August 27, 1980: Sturgeon Moon**

Remus awoke and bit back a groan. As the summer had dragged along, the euphoria that had surrounded the debut of Harry James Potter abated. Less than a month after Harry's first appearance, then, Remus felt completely drained of the awe and joy he had felt in Saint Mungo's waiting room. The month of August had not gone well by any stretch of the imagination, and the previous night's transformation had been especially unpleasant.

Remus opened one eye, but hastily closed it again. The morning sunlight seemed to bore a hole straight through his skull while simultaneously provoking a wave of nearly unbearable nausea. It would be best to pretend to remain asleep until Peter insisted that they vacate the manor's premises.

On ordinary post-transformation mornings, Remus would have had no reason to display his acting skills, for he would have had no trouble falling back into unconsciousness. Today, however, his mind was too uneasy to allow his body to relax.

X

The trouble had begun as soon as he had returned home from nearly a full day of celebrating Harry's birth. He walked straight to the couch on which he had abandoned his papers only to find that they were held in place by a paperweight unquestionably made of silver.

Warily, Remus surveyed his living space with his wand in his hand. He found nothing unusual save the paperweight.

Remus made a face. He reached for the topmost square of parchment, intending to rid himself of the object without actually touching it. Casting a spell on the thing did not seem like the best idea; it was perhaps enchanted and might react adversely to a curse. However, as Remus gently took the parchment in his hand, the paperweight leapt from the page and wrapped itself around his wrist. He could not help yelping at the sudden pain.

Words began to appear on the parchment upon which the paperweight had been sitting. _You have a weakness that can be exploited. Use this parchment to send an affirmative answer with the owl waiting by your back window, or you will use it for nothing else._ The chunk of silver removed itself from his arm and morphed into the shape of the dreaded Dark Mark before vanishing completely. The words faded from the parchment as Remus stared.

He walked quickly to his back window. As promised, a medium-sized black owl with what Remus was certain was an evil glint in its eyes was waiting. He and the bird stared at one another for a moment before, in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, he opened and then slammed the window. The owl flew off, screeching in outrage at nearly having had a talon severed.

As promised, the next morning an owl arrived from the headmaster of the school that employed Remus.

_Mr. Lupin:_

_We regret to inform you that we will no longer be requiring your services in the matter of preparing our summer programs. You failed to notify us of your pre-existing medical condition when you accepted our offer of employment. As a result, your contract is null and void and we will not be compensating you for services already rendered. Your work is of no use to us as we are in the business of preventing occurrences such as those you choose to associate with are in the business of causing._

_Sincerely,_

_Vincent Steen_

He threw the scrap parchment into the fire along with the rolls of parchment he had intended to send to the school later in the day. He spent the rest of the week doing odd jobs for under-the-table pay and searching, with no success, for more permanent work.

Then the next owl arrived.

_Mr. Lupin:_

_Please do not resent the actions we were recently forced to take against you. We simply needed to get your attention. In the long run, we feel assured that our relationship will be mutually beneficial. You will always be an outcast among those who rule the current society. Luckily, a new society is arising, and its members would most sincerely appreciate the unique contributions you can make to our cause. We offer you acceptance, protection, worthwhile pursuits, and riches beyond your wildest dreams. We hope that you in turn will offer us your scholarly abilities and your connections within the world that spurns you so. Reply by return owl._

_Respectfully,_

_Your Future Comrades_

Once more, the writing vanished as soon as Remus had read it and once more he shooed the owl away without tying so much as a scrap of parchment to its leg. No more had befallen him since that day, but he wasted more than a few hours which would have been better spent sleeping or inquiring after paid work wondering when the next statement would arrive. The Death Eaters did not give up on a quest so easily. If they had decided that Remus had the potential to join them and help them, then they would surely recruit him until he was ruined or dead.

He did, he had to admit to himself, have a motive. It was sometimes hard to convince himself to volunteer for the dangerous projects that Dumbledore assigned his small coalition of trusted witches and wizards when he knew that the very people who he was working to protect would spurn him should they ever meet in person. However, to his relief, it was _never_ hard to convince himself to reject the offers that promised fortune and acceptance. He would fight the Death Eaters as long as he could draw breath. There were few certainties in the world, but this was one of them. Right and wrong were not difficult to separate when it came to the war between Light and Dark Magic. Was there a difference between refusing to allow a known werewolf into polite society simply because of a magically altered genetic makeup over which he had no control and refusing to allow Muggles to live peacefully simply because they had, through no faults of their own, been born without magic? Indeed there was. As archaic and prejudiced as contemporary wizarding society seemed at times to be, the alternative was much, much worse. No society that could produce James, Sirius, and Peter could be entirely on the wrong track, in any case.

Remus peeked through closed eyelids and saw that Peter was watching him closely. Soon Peter would be forced to "wake him up" and Apparate him home. Remus was too tired and sore to Apparate himself this morning. It was nice that he could trust Peter. Apparating another person was a dangerous, complex spell, but Peter had been determined to become proficient at it, just as he had been determined to successfully complete the Animagus transformation. Peter was a wizard of average ability: no more and no less.

Remus sometimes worried that Peter doubted his talents. The professors at Hogwarts had often been harder on Peter than on his three best friends. James and Sirius had been the most intelligent students in the year, and had been charming troublemakers who wormed their ways into the professors' hearts to boot. The constant refrain surrounding Remus had been "Remus Lupin does so well with what he has!" Remus had resented the refrain to a point, but his all-encompassing gratitude at being allowed into Hogwarts in the first place had overwhelmed his annoyance. Peter had had the misfortune of being the average constantly compared to the exceptions. "He isn't in the same league as James and Sirius," the professors had said. Very well. Who _was_ in the same league as James and Sirius? Besides James and Sirius, of course.

After graduation, James, Sirius, and even Remus had been ushered into a special program meant to train potential aurors. Remus had not had the slightest chance of becoming an auror-- he was a registered werewolf and the Ministry would never have had him-- but Dumbledore had wanted him to learn all that the program could teach him. Peter had not received an invitation. He had, however, achieved high scores on his NEWTS and been offered a position in the Ministry, though not a prestigious one. Now, Peter was in a more secure position career-wise than were any of his friends. Sirius had been unable to resist the temptation to continue training as an auror; but young aurors could be thrown from the program for any reason at any time. James played Quidditch, but as Dark activity increased, questions about the propriety of holding athletic contests were raised. The Quidditch league might soon be disbanded. Remus himself went through jobs rapidly as his lycanthropic nature was exposed.

X

"Moony?" Peter now asked gently. He hesitantly brushed his hand against Remus' shoulder as if afraid that he would hurt his friend. Remus' shoulder was indeed cut and bruised, but he had lost enough blood that he could barely feel Peter's touch.

"Time to go?" he asked groggily.

"Time to go. You want me to Apparate you?"

Remus considered nodding his head but decided that that would hurt too much. "Yes," he rasped instead.

"Hang on." Peter knit his brows in concentration and performed the spell. Instantly, the two were transported to Remus' flat. Peter helped Remus to his bed without being asked and vanished into the kitchen to fetch a healing potion. He slipped into his own thoughts as he ministered to the semiconscious werewolf.

X

It seemed impossible that things could have become so much more complex in the two months that had passed since he had last stayed with Remus during a full moon. On second thought, though, his world had changed drastically not in two months but in two hours.

The life of a petty Ministry of Magic official was not dramatic, romantic, or exciting. Peter knew that he had little more to look forward to for the rest of his working life; he was not the ambitious sort of person who rapidly climbed the Ministry ladder. In addition, he was not as powerfully magical as the wizards who generally attained fame and fortune in one way or another. He did not especially care. His Ministry appointment would give him security for as long as he wished it, and his social life was as good as anyone's could be in times like these.

He had, obviously, three very great friends. James was the fairytale hero who got everything right. Sirius was the stunningly handsome, charismatic warrior who drew attention in all he did. And Remus was the enigma, the carrier of the werewolf curse who could be boundlessly patient and cuttingly sardonic by turns. Peter's social life did not extend far beyond the three; a broader social life was impossible during the war. No one could tell for certain who was working for the Dark Lord, and who was under the Imperius Curse, and who had been sent to test the willpower of an operative for one side or the other. Bars and restaurants and clubs had been vacant for years now. The last surviving vestige of entertainment was the Quidditch League. The stands often stood three-quarters empty, but the Ministry had encouraged the teams to continue to play because the games were broadcast over wizarding radio and seemed to boost the morale of families too nervous to leave their homes to see the matches in person.

Thus, Peter had been working late, as he often did. His tasks were not complicated, but they involved large amounts of information that needed to be synthesized and redistributed. Peter's attention span and perceptive abilities began to waver around midnight. Sighing, he forced himself to speak aloud in the hopes that this would allow him to complete just a few more reports before leaving.

"This goes here," he said to his empty office. "That goes there. Proofread . . . no, already checked that. Need an address. Accio . . . need a wand to do magic, don't I? My wand is over there. I put it down on top of the dictionary. I should really go pick it up. Or I could just pick up the address book I was going to summon. Or I could just go home. Talking to myself this much can't possibly be a good thing."

"I would think not," said a shadowed voice.

Peter did the only thing a sensible, overworked, overtired young wizard could do. He screamed. _Why is my wand over there?_ he asked himself frantically. _Why is it there, why isn't it here, not that I could ever out-duel anyone. Stupid!_

"Don't be frightened," the voice continued. Now Peter could see a dark, hooded figure emerge around the corner of his office. "If we wanted to kill you, you would be dead already."

Peter had to admit to himself that that was true. He turned some of his attention to wondering how many "we" was. Most of his attention, however, remained on being afraid. Fear might not have been an entirely rational reaction in such as helpless state as his, but somehow it felt right. "Wh-- what d-- do you w-- want?" he asked, loathing himself for stammering. He had always stammered when nervous. This was one of the things he least liked about himself.

"We want to talk to you, Peter," the Death Eater said in a deceptively gentle voice. "You've worked enough for one night, don't you think?"

Peter did not trust himself to respond verbally, but he brushed his rolls of parchment aside and looked directly at the man. Confident body language, at least, was something he could fake.

"Good," said the Death Eater with an almost friendly chuckle. "Now, I was wondering if you could give me a little bit of help?"

Peter blanched. It sounded so innocuous when it was phrased that way. "Help." As if it was something that any decent wizard in his right mind would do. But Peter knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the kind of "help" this man wanted would involve betraying the Ministry, Dumbledore, and even his family and friends. "I c-- can't d-- do that. I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry. There's no reason you can't do it. You don't know what it is." The Death Eater moved closer to Peter, although not in a menacing way. "Do calm down. This is nothing to get over-excited about. Not yet." He turned to look around the corner from which he had appeared. "Have you?" He did not need to complete his request; a flask full of amber-colored liquid was thrown in his direction. He conjured a glass from thin air and placed it in front of Peter before filling it with what was obviously very expensive mulled mead. "It might make you feel better."

Peter ignored the offering.

"You don't have to take it, of course. We won't force you to do anything. We want you to join us because you want to join us."

"I don't want to join you."

"You ought to hear us out. It would only be polite, and from what we know, you're a rather polite sort. Don't like to hurt other peoples' feelings. Go out of your way for your friends. Do everything it takes to do your job properly, even when it takes more than it should." He glanced around Peter's cluttered office as if to illustrate his point.

"You know nothing about me."

"Don't speak too hastily." The wizard struck a melodramatic pose, and for a wild moment Peter was deeply reminded of Sirius. What would Sirius do in this situation? Surely he would have already found some way to disarm all of the Death Eaters, and he would have had them well on their way to Azkaban. Sirius was sometimes uncontrolled in his everyday life, but in a crisis he seemed to do exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. Next to Sirius, Peter sometimes felt very, very young.

The Death Eater looked directly at Peter; or Peter at least believed that he did. He could see nothing but hood, mask, and robes. "You were born in 1960. You were something of a surprise to your parents, who had believed that they would not be able to have any children after your sister, Roberta. She is fourteen years older than you, so you've never had a typical sibling relationship. You get along quite well, given the opportunity, however. You seem to rather admire her, and she is equally fond of you. She was a prefect and nearly Head Girl during her time at Hogwarts, and she has worked in the legal department of the Ministry since she finished her NEWTs. Your father died when you were six.

"You grew up in the wizarding community and for some time worried that you were a squib. A burst of magic changed a playmate's hair from black to white when you were eight years of age, and from then on you looked forward to Hogwarts. You did not make any true friends as a young child; the hair-changing incident occurred when your playmates were chanting that you were a squib and fat. One day roughly a year after this, your sister took you to work with her because there was a Quidditch festival in the town where the Ministry's legal affairs are centered. One of your sister's co-workers brought along a young cousin of hers the same age as you. His name was James Potter, and the two of you thoroughly enjoyed yourself that day.

"You began to attend Hogwarts in 1971. There, you became reacquainted with James Potter and forged a true friendship. Your other best friends were Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. All four of you were Sorted into Gryffindor and were roommates. A month or so into your first year, you and James overheard an argument between the permanent groundskeeper and his temporary replacement, and responded by encouraging your other friends to help you sabotage the replacement's equipment. You became carried away with your own cleverness and declared yourselves 'pranksters.' You did well in your classes, though not well enough to convince your professors to overlook your trouble-making behavior . . ."

Peter sat in shock as the Death Eater's recitation droned on for ten minutes, and then twenty. The man knew every detail about virtually all of the important events in Peter's life thus far. He knew every detail about most of the unimportant events, as well.

"Can you say you know as much about my friends and me as we know about your friends and you?" the Death Eater completed ingratiatingly.

"No. I can't," Peter admitted. His voice was no longer shaking. His unexpected, unwanted visitor had spoken for so long that Peter had become accustomed to his presence.

The Death Eater noticed Peter's newfound sense of security. "We're friends now, aren't we, Peter?"

"I don't even know your name, as you just pointed out."

"What's in a name? A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. Do you feel any differently about your friend James when you call him 'Prongs?'"

"No," said Peter. His answer was perhaps not entirely truthful, but one of few things which the visitor's recitation had failed to mention was the animagus abilities of James, Sirius, and Peter. He knew the nicknames by which the four friends called each other, but he did not know the origins of those names (although he surely suspected why Remus was called 'Moony').

"Of course not. You know that I'm deeply interested in you. I've gone to a great deal of trouble for you. You have to be somewhat flattered."

"Somewhat," echoed Peter unwillingly. _Being flattered doesn't mean I want to join him! _he mentally reassured himself.

"It's been said that flattery will get you everywhere. I'd like to ask for your help once more. Will you listen to my request now?"

_Have I a choice?_ Peter wondered. "I will listen," he said aloud.

He could hear the smile as it crept into the Death Eater's tiredly triumphant voice. "That is all I ask. I believe that among this swarm of parchments you have some of the plans for an affair set to occur in two months' time. The Rally of Light, I believe the esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore is calling it?"

Considering the man's earlier recitation of Peter's life, Peter knew that it would do no good to lie. His visitor knew his business at least as well as he himself knew it. "I have the plans."

"Then share the wealth, my friend!" the Death Eater replied jovially.

"I can't."

"Have you forgotten where the plans are?"

"I was given strict orders--"

"You've never broken a rule for a friend?"

"There are different sorts of rules."

"And this is the sort you cannot break." The voice dropped several degrees.

"Yes," said Peter hopefully.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. COME!" Six more Death Eaters suddenly appeared in Peter's office; but they seemed to be many more than six. They took fighting positions and drew their wands. This was the stuff of which nightmares were made. The leader's deportment had become menacing once again. He passed one hand into his robe and withdrew a human head. Peter's stomach lurched terribly. The eyes were opened wide in a lifeless expression of shock, and smatters of blood still clung to the severed neck.

The Death Eater held the head by the hair and swung it in front of Peter, so that the living nose was inches from the dead. To his unending horror, Peter recognized the woman as a former classmate-- a member of Hufflepuff House. He had seen her obituary in the Daily Prophet the previous day.

"You will give me the plans or you will end up like her," the Death Eater declared in a tone that brooked no room for argument.

"In the cabinet," Peter whispered, still feeling terribly sick. "The leftmost one. There is a hidden compartment in the upper right-hand corner. If you place your wand directly against it and use an unlocking charm, it will open."

One of the burly Death Eaters followed Peter's instructions and removed the precious plans. He and his comrades then vanished, leaving only the leader.

"I'm sorry we had to be so harsh with you today," he said gently. "But you had something that we needed right away. Ordinarily, we do not recruit in person from the first. Risky and inefficient, but less so when someone is a Ministry worker. You might want to give some thought to how we got in here tonight. Your Ministry is rotten not at the core, but very near the core. Nothing is to be gained from resisting us."

With that, he was gone. Peter shakily Apparated back to his flat, half-hoping that he would splinch himself and end his troubles. He hid sleeplessly in his bed like a small child for the rest of the night. The next morning, the plans were back in their secret compartment as if they had never been gone. Peter did his best to convince himself that the experience had been no more than a vivid dream.

X

The "dream" haunted him ceaselessly, however. Just now he was distracted by his thoughts when he was supposed to be helping Remus. "Sit up, Moony," he whispered, in case Remus had a headache that would be made worse by a loud voice. Remus groaned. "Just for a minute. You drink this and you'll sleep longer and better." He sat on the edge of the bed and half-pulled Remus into a sitting position, resting his friend's upper body against his own. Remus obediently drank the potion. "Good," Peter soothed. "Now go to sleep." He pressed a damp rag to Remus' face, trying to remove the blood (blood like the blood on the dead woman's head, but he wasn't thinking about that) that had dried there. Any number of charms would have removed the blood equally as well, but the magic would disturb Remus more than a simple touch. It was bad enough that he would have to use magic on any broken bones he might have to knit. He did not mend bones as well as a nurse or a healer, but a simple break was easily taken care of; and Remus had simple breaks too frequently to go to a healer every time.

In truth, Peter reconsidered, it had been a long while since Remus had injured himself this badly. James and Sirius, as Prongs and Padfoot, were strong enough to curb the wolf's destructive tendencies. Wormtail could not do as well, particularly because Moony and Wormtail could not go outside alone. They had spent the night trapped together in the shed, and while Wormtail had been able to distract the wolf and allow Remus to assert himself occasionally, he had not been able to control it.

He sighed, and continued his ministrations until a bang from the fireplace startled him. _They're back. They're coming back._ he thought anxiously. But when the fireplace at last swung wildly into his field of vision, there stood not a Death Eater but James.

"Hi," said James softly, placing some spare Floo Powder into his pocket. "How is he?"

"Bad, but not too bad. A few breaks."

James winced in sympathy. "Damn."

"I tried."

"I know you did. But a rat and a werewolf-- your odds weren't good."

They returned to Remus' bed. Remus blinked awake groggily. "Prongs?"

"You look awful, Moony."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," answered James sunnily. "What hurts?"

"Everything. Nothing. Why are you here?"

"Checking on you and bringing news. I didn't want you to get it from the radio or the Prophet tomorrow." His face lost some of its customary confidence and optimism. "There was another big attack last night. There was a group of aurors together in the safehouse outside London, and the Death Eaters attacked."

"Attacked a group of aurors?" Remus wondered incredulously.

"Showing off."

Remus digested this analysis for a moment before inwardly berating himself for not making the obvious connection sooner. If such a thing were possible, he became even more pale. "Was Sirius . . .?" The words died in his throat.

"Sirius was right in the middle of it. But he's fine. He came out of it all right. Not everyone did, but Sirius is fine." James looked torn between relief that his best friend had survived the ambush and guilt that the lives that had been lost did not matter to him as much as the fact that Sirius was safe.

"You're certain?" asked Peter.

"Positive. I saw him this morning. He was scared, not that he'd admit it, but he also ended up leading the takedown that caught a few of the guilty ones. Not many. Just a few, but it's better than nothing."

Peter and Remus accepted James' explanation without comment. Such behavior was typically Sirius.

"And now the most important news of all!" James announced, grinning broadly.

"Well?" prompted Peter and Remus together.

"Harry smiled yesterday! He's only one month old, and it's very rare for a baby to smile at one month, but he did! He definitely smiled! Even laughed a bit!"

"Why wouldn't he, with the parents he's got?" put in Peter delightedly.

"Congratulations," added Remus. "But how do you know it's rare for a baby to smile at one month?"

James grinned all the more. "We have a book. All babies smile at three months unless there's something wrong, but not many do it at one month! Sirius says only an ex-Head Boy and Girl would check their son's progress in a book, but he's just jealous, even if he doesn't know it. We'll see if I let him help me teach Harry to play Quidditch after this," he threatened unthreateningly.

"Which you'll be doing next month?" queried Remus innocently.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

Remus found it easy to obey, and Peter slumped in exhaustion as well. The Death Eaters seemed suddenly less important than Harry's first smile.

**October 31, 1980**

Peter had no further contact with the Death Eaters for the two months that led to Dumbledore's Rally of Light. _It was nothing_, he told himself every day. _I imagined it_, he added. At some point, he began to believe himself and the horrific memory began to fade.

He meant to wake up early on the morning of the Rally, but he had been working long, hard hours to prepare for it and his internal alarm clock failed to go off. When he at last awoke, he hastened to Apparate to the meeting place, which was not far from the often-empty Quidditch stadium at which the Rally was to be held.

His first thought upon blinking into existence in his new location was that his surroundings smelled wrong. Since he had begun to spend some of his time in the form of a rat, he had become more dependent on his sense of smell. It came in useful more often than he would have expected. Today, though, a Muggle with a bad case of the flu would have been able to detect the thankfully unusual stench: burning buildings and perhaps even burning flesh.

"WORMTAIL!"

Peter whirled around at the shout. Sirius was running toward him. The distance between the two disappeared rapidly, and Sirius grabbed Peter by his shoulders, looking frantic. "You're all right?"

"I'm all right. Padfoot, what happened?"

Sirius' expression hardened. "Some of the plans for the Rally must have fallen into the Death Eaters' hands." Peter felt a thrill of fear, and it must have shown on his face, for Sirius obviously observed it. Luckily, he misinterpreted it. "James and Lily and Harry are all fine. So's Remus." He took as deep a breath as he could, and grimaced as he did so. "Ten dead. Six of them children. A father decided to bring his sons and some friends to see where they play Quidditch since he didn't feel it was safe to go there during operating hours. How's that for irony?"

"The other three?"

"Volunteers. We only told them last night where they'd have to set up, since no one was supposed to know exactly where the Rally would be until they grabbed the portkeys. What am I saying? You know all that, you helped with this."

"Now what?"

Sirius leaned in and whispered in Peter's ear as if he feared that he would be overheard even in the chaos. "Apparate to the North Stadium. We'll reconfigure the portkeys and break the news of this at the Rally."

"That might cause mass panic, Sirius," Peter warned, though it was neither his nor Sirius' decision.

"We'll see that it doesn't. Go on."

The last thing Peter noticed before Disapparating was the Dark Mark lofting lazily over the intended location of the Rally of Light.

The rest of the morning was spent rushing from one task to another and doing things half as well as they ought to have been done in his haste. However, when the appointed time arrived, the portkeys had been reconfigured, the new location had been decorated, and guards, emergency medical workers, caterers, and ushers were all in their assigned positions.

Exhausted Ministry workers, aurors, members of the Hogwarts faculty, and underground resistance members implicitly trusted by Dumbledore gathered in the first few rows of the stands as other witches and wizards began to arrive. They overstepped their fear of leaving their arguably safe homes because of their great respect for Dumbledore and their desire to see him speak.

Remus, Sirius, and Peter sat beside James, Lily, and Harry, who was making his very first public appearance and was attracting a great many stares. None of those who had had the good fortune to meet the little boy over the course of the previous three months was surprised at the attention he garnered. His messy black hair and bright green eyes would have been adorable in any case; and the fact that he looked so much like his young, beautiful, and very-obviously-very-much-in-love parents only added to the image he presented. Harry had instantly become the light not only of his parents' lives but of the lives of all who knew him. He was a prince born into a kingdom of admirers.

"All right," began Sirius when the group had been companionably silent for several moments, "What the hell happened today?"

Lily shook her head and looked bewildered. "I thought we took every precaution against something like this. You obviously need a lot of people to organize an event this size, but Dumbledore only used Ministry workers and aurors and resistance fighters. We were probably the least experienced ones involved. No one had access to the plans who can't be trusted."

"Obviously, someone did," Sirius corrected unnecessarily.

Lily shifted Harry in her arms. "The tide seemed to be turning in our favor. Aurors killed Rosier and Wilkes, captured Karkaroff and Dolohov, and that's just in the past few months. Perhaps it was a coincidence? Luck?" She did not sound as if she believed herself.

"I'd love to believe that, but I think the alternative is much more likely."

"What alternative?" asked Remus. "A spy?"

"Someone passed that information," Sirius declared firmly. "Dumbledore trusts where others don't. There are some suspicious people high up in the anti-Voldemort movement. Take Snape."

James spoke for the first time. "No. Not Snape. He's an ugly, annoying git but he's too smart to do something like that."

"He's never even been accused," continued Lily.

"Yes, he's never been accused because he's too smart to get caught!" Sirius proclaimed.

"Are you certain he had anything to do with the Rally of Light?" James argued methodically. "His specialty is potions-making."

"So? No one exactly specializes in paperwork, and there was loads of that involved in setting this up. Right, Peter, Lily?"

"I don't believe the paperwork went beyond the Ministry," Lily argued vehemently. "We all did that so no one else had to."

"Just because you _did_ it doesn't mean no one else had access! I'm sure any of the aurors--"

"Are you accusing Frank Longbottom now?" wondered James aloud. "Maybe Mad-Eye Moody? Yourself?"

"I'm not technically an auror yet. But there are so many people who have other jobs officially and who are really working for Dumbledore--"

"Me? Remus? Arabella Figg?" James began to suggest rapidly. "Any of the Hogwarts professors?"

"Almost no one seems suspicious, but the fact remains that someone within a dozen wandlengths of us probably passed that information!" Observing James' and Lily's stubborn stares of denial, Sirius looked elsewhere for support. "Moony? What do you think?"

The question was never answered. Dumbledore had appeared at the podium erected in the middle of the stadium and his magically amplified voice began to speak as soon as the raucous applause died down.

"Thank you to all of you, and thank you to those who have fought tirelessly against the troubles facing our community but who are unable to be here today. You are a great support and source of strength to those on the front lines of a war like no other we have ever known. I am proud of each and every one of you, not least for being here this afternoon when there are those who would have us all at home and cowering in fear."

Remus applauded once more along with the rest of those in attendance. Craning his neck around, he wondered if the whole of the wizarding population of Great Britain (as well as representatives from every other wizarding country) had come to Dumbledore's Rally.

Dumbledore continued to speak. "We have called this gathering the Rally of Light. It has been many months in planning because we wanted to ensure your safety, particularly the safety of the children I see among us. And to those children, I would like to say that I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts within the next few years."

Remus glanced at Harry, who was still lying contentedly in his mother's lap. James had placed his arm around Lily, and her head rested against his shoulder. _They look so perfect together it almost looks fake, _he thought. _A beautiful little family. But will there be a Hogwarts by the time Harry is old enough to go? By the time Sirius and Peter have children for him to play with? I'm doing absolutely everything I can to stop Voldemort from gaining power, but we're fighting a losing battle and everyone who gets anywhere near the front lines knows it. There's nothing more any of us can do. There's nothing more I can do, much as I hate to admit it. This rally surely isn't doing any good. In fact, it's gotten ten people killed and an expensive stadium destroyed already. It was meant to give hope-- but what good is false hope? It was meant to show the Death Eaters that we won't stop living-- but I think the Death Eaters sent the strongest statement today_.

"We had hoped that today we could be normal witches and wizards despite the abnormal situation. We had hoped that old friends would meet again, recipes and stories would be exchanged, children would play mock-Quidditch. But it was not to be. I have a somber announcement that will be news for some of you. Today's Rally was intended to be held in a different arena, the Southern Arena, as it happens. But this morning that arena was attacked. The Dark Mark floats over it now, and ten people are dead."

An anxious murmur ran through the crowd. Remus could see aurors, Hit Wizards, and security wizards reaching for their wands in case they needed to keep order.

"We have captured at least one of those responsible. But still, there is no justification for the pain of the ten who died today or the hundreds who have died over the past several years. They did nothing wrong. Their families did nothing wrong. And I believe that their memorial can and should be greater than simply the punishment of the guilty. It is that, out of the shadow of this evil, should emerge lasting good. Resist Lord Voldemort! Resist his followers! Do not lower yourselves to their tactics of fear and hatred, but continue to live. Continue to hope for an era which is free from the violence and savagery of those who mistakenly declare themselves harbingers of a new way of life!"

Applause erupted once more. The population, Remus could see, wanted to obey Dumbledore's command. The fact that such a thing might be impossible did not bother them now. For the moment, they only wanted to feel united and less alone. Still, the words seemed to ring empty to Remus. He somehow felt more alone even though he was sitting beside four people he loved and trusted. _Four people I love and trust who don't know that the Death Eaters want me to join them._

"It is likely that each of us here as lost someone important in this war. Each death is a tragedy in and of itself. Each is not just a tragedy for parents or children or friends: it is _our _tragedy, it is a collective tragedy. We are as strong as we are united and as weak as we are divided!"

This time, the applause split the air like a sonic boom. _I suppose this event was worth the trouble everyone went to if it gets this kind of support from the community. Dumbledore needs all the help he can get._

"And now we are united. We are united in condemnation of Lord Voldemort and his followers and we are united in sympathy for his victims. We shall be united in our determination to survive and thrive in these trying times. We will bring tolerance, freedom, love, and respect into our homes and our places of business. My place of business is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hogwarts is dedicated to teaching, and to inquiry, and to freedom and openness. Hogwarts is the anathema of the society Lord Voldemort would like to create-- a society that lives in secret and thrives on hatred!"

A pang of guilt shot through Remus. _No wonder they want to recruit me. I'm wonderful at living in secret. It's something of a necessity when you're a closeted werewolf. It isn't a necessity for me to dwell on those letters, though. Neither is it a necessity for me to neglect to tell my friends about them. But what good would speaking do? Peter is so upset by the war already, and James and Lily too, with their new baby. Sirius might be able to handle talking to me, but Sirius didn't do very well with the last secret I told him, did he? 'Hello, Snape, would you like to get past the Whomping Willow and make a killer out of my friend? And get him expelled, while you're at it?'_

_And Sirius has already all but accused me of being a spy. Oh, he accused everyone short of Dumbledore, but I'm certain he'd be rid of me as fast as he could if he ever found any evidence that actually suggested my guilt. Look how protective he is of his godson. Of everyone he cares for. He cares for me, too, and I'm not going to do anything that might stop him from caring. I don't want to be alone in this mess any more than anyone else does._

_I'm sure Sirius has never been recruited, or James or Lily or Peter, either. Everyone knows which side they're on, but who can know about a werewolf? He might not believe that I've never done a thing to show that I might be interested in the Dark Lord's offers._

So lost was Remus in his thoughts that he did not hear the end of Dumbledore's speech. Sirius nudged him. "Are you all right?"

Remus smiled wanly. "Fine."

"It's all right if you aren't. Sometimes odd things get to you," Sirius pressed.

"I'm as fine as anyone is, Padfoot," Remus repeated with more energy.

"Right, then. The man of the hour is heading our way. Look impressive."

"I suspect he'll only have eyes for Harry."

Sirius shrugged in agreement as Dumbledore approached the little group. "Can't blame him for that."

Dumbledore's eyes indeed went straight to Harry, although he greeted each of his five chaperones in turn. "I've been anxious to meet this young man," he told a beaming James and Lily. "His name is already on the Hogwarts rolls, you know."

"Really?" asked James with delight.

"Naturally. Look at his parents." James almost looked embarrassed at his obvious show of relief. No one doubted that James would love and be a wonderful father to a squib, for James was more open-minded than most descendants of long wizarding lines, but the fact remained that every pair of wizarding parents hoped for a healthy, magically gifted child. Dumbledore took pity on his former student. "I quite understand. Every Hogwarts graduate wants his or her child to attend Hogwarts. I would think myself quite a failure if it were not so."

"Well, we're both delighted that Harry will be getting a letter in eleven years," added Lily.

"Ten years and eight months," Dumbledore corrected with a smile.

Lily shook her head emphatically, causing her long, red hair to glint in the dying afternoon sun. "That's too soon." She clutched her son more tightly. Harry lifted his head and stared at Dumbledore's crooked-nosed face. Dumbledore met the infant's gaze.

"Would you like to hold him?"

"I'd like nothing more." Lily stood and handed Harry to the aged headmaster. "Children are even more miraculous in times like these."

"Are there many children on the rolls for his year?" asked Lily, though Harry and Dumbledore were still engrossed by each other.

Dumbledore sighed. "Most children don't show for certain that they're magical until they're considerably older than Harry is now. We know of six children from purely wizarding families who will certainly be invited. We know of fifteen more who will most likely be invited. But the class will be much smaller than your class was, particularly if the Death Eaters continue to murder children on a regular basis. And when you add in the children who weren't born because your classmates and the students in the classes just above yours are dying at such an alarming rate, we simply have to face the idea that Harry's class will be very small. It may be as much as half Muggle born."

"Half!" James sounded stunned. "That's amazing."

"I wouldn't have thought it possible twenty years ago, but it is certainly so now." Sadly, the old wizard returned a cooing Harry to his mother. "I must go. More people to greet. And I need not warn you all to be careful. There is only one way that this morning events could have occurred."

"A spy," said Sirius flatly and without a hint of gloating.

"Correct," Dumbledore agreed, and was gone.

Neither James nor Lily nor Remus nor Sirius noticed as the blood drained from Peter's face.

_**Auxiliary Disclaimer: **Parts of Dumbledore's speech were swiped from a speech made by Tony Blair on October 2, 2001._


	3. Beaver Moon

**November 22, 1980: Beaver Moon**

Peter stared mindlessly out his window. The full moon was rising, but he was not with Remus and his other friends tonight. He had told them that he simply had too much work to leave the office, and that was not a complete untruth. He _had_ been missing deadlines since Roberta's death. However, he was waiting here tonight because he had been ordered to do so.

The day before Roberta, her husband, and their seven-year old daughter had been found dead in the wreckage of their home, beneath the symbol of the Dark Mark, Peter had been visited by a coal black owl bearing a note of thanks for the help he had given its owner. For a brief, blissful instant, Peter had been confused. He knew no one who owned a black owl, and he had not gone out of his way for any strangers as of late.

Then he had remembered the rumor that Death Eaters used only black owls. It seemed dangerous, really-- shouldn't it be easy to track Death Eater correspondence if they only utilized a certain type of bird?-- but apparently, it was true. The note had further suggested that Peter might want to answer a few questions about the vulnerabilities of that pesky junior auror, Sirius Black?

No, Peter did not want to answer any such questions. When Peter had first met Sirius, through James, he had been somewhat jealous. Sirius was James' best friend, and everyone wanted a friend like James. But Sirius had instantly declared Peter a friend by extension, and over the ensuing months the title had ceased to be a formality. Having Sirius' protection from the older, stronger, nastier students would have been blessing enough; having Sirius' respect and affection was even better. Sometimes, it even seemed that Sirius wanted Peter's approval and time as much as Peter wanted Sirius'. Peter's decision to send information regarding the Rally of Light to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been one thing; sending along information about Sirius, whom Peter loved and trusted, was quite another.

The writing on the parchment vanished as soon as Peter read it. Interesting. That would make the writers and recipients harder to trace, and capitalized on the fact that no one wanted to admit that he or she had been the unwilling recipient of Death Eater recruitment, anyway.

Peter hastily scribbled a reply onto the parchment._ I know nothing of use about Sirius Black._ He affixed the parchment to the owl's leg and sent it on its way. He hoped that the Death Eaters would believe that he knew nothing about Sirius; after all, he had not said that he refused to help them, just that he could not. They would not punish him for being ignorant, would they? He had no desire to have the head of a corpse waved in front of him again.

Despite his hopes, he had jumped each time an owl came near him, a fire sprang to life, or someone strode into his field of vision.

And his fears were realized. The morning after he failed to provide information about Sirius, his mother appeared in his fire, eyes full of unshed tears and face red and blotchy. "Roberta," she gasped. "The Dark Mark. Peter, come home."

He had gone home. He had arranged the funerals and given the eulogy. He had stared at the frozen body of Roberta, who had been dear to him before he had ever heard of Sirius. He had stared at the tiny body of his niece, who had already been counting the days until she received her Hogwarts letter. She was small for her age, and she looked smaller still in premature death. She would never cross the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ and search for her friends amidst the throng. She would never purchase snacks from the friendly witch on the Hogwarts Express, and never make the journey across the lake, wondering how the Sorting would go. She would never hear the Sorting Hat whisper its decision in her ear or see her new housemates applaud as she joined their table.

_Ravenclaw,_ he thought irrationally._ She would have been a Ravenclaw. She was so smart. Smarter than I'll ever be. And now she's dead, because a seven-year-old is such a great threat to the Dark Lord. Why did he kill her?_

_Why did I kill her?_

For he was certain that the deaths of his sister, brother-in-law, and niece could be placed on his head. He was certain that this was his punishment for not detailing each and every character flaw that Sirius happened to have. He had traded Sirius' life for Roberta's. And her husband's and daughter's.

When he returned home after seeing that his mother and the gravesite were both taken care of, a letter awaited him.

_Dear Mr. Pettigrew:_

_Please accept our condolences on your recent loss. It is always the hardest when our loved ones are robbed of life when their lives have hardly begun. Rest assured that they have not died in vain. We believe that their deaths have shown you the difference between right and wrong. For example, we doubt that you will soon refuse another favor to a friend. We have it on good authority that you refused the simple gift of information to a friend who has never done you wrong the very day that your sister and her family were so tragically killed._

_Do not blame yourself._

_Honor your family by being at your office on the night of the next full moon. And do watch out for werewolves._

_We certainly will._

_In Sympathy,_

_Your Friends_

Again, the words erased themselves from the parchment as soon as he finished reading them. He had no trouble catching the thinly veiled reference to Remus. He guessed that Sirius and James were equally unwelcome. He also doubted that anyone could have invented a trap that would have caught this band of Death Eaters. The world was in a state of war, and the Light was losing. Besides, he had no intention of revealing to Sirius, James, or anyone else that he had been in contact with Death Eaters.

He did not feel a great amount of shame at having been contacted. In truth, in some corner of his brain, he was pleased to have been recruited. Recruitment meant that he had some talent that was valued-- and it was nice to be valued, even by the harbingers of evil. Compliments came to one only rarely when one's friends could all be described by the word "genius."

However, he did know that confession would lead him to Azkaban. He had never been near the Fortress, and he had no intention of remedying this situation. Even if he could figure a way to explain that he had been contacted and threatened without explaining that he had handed over information pertaining to the Rally of Light, he would surely be asked for further information while under the influence of Veritaserum. Revealing all he knew would lead to punishments far greater than any his conscience might give him.

And so, Peter sat in his office and watched the Beaver Moon rise.

Soon after it did, three figures entered his office.

"You're here. Very good," said the middle one, and Peter knew from his voice that this was the same man to whom he had spoken before.

"How did you get in here?" he could not resist inquiring.

"Do pay more attention. I as much as told you last time that we have many friends from the Ministry. They make it easy for us to search for more friends. You can never have too many friends, don't you agree?"

"I suppose."

"You're probably wondering to what you owe the pleasure of this visit."

"You could say that."

"I just did. Are you ready to get down to business?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Very well. Now, don't be nervous. There's no need to be. Are you nervous with Sirius? Remus? James?"

"No."

"Of course you aren't. And we'd like to discuss that with you. But first we'd like to extend our condolences to you once more. We understand that your mother is taking your sister's death very hard."

"She is," said Peter. He could not keep a sigh from escaping his lips.

"But she still has her life. And you yours. For now."

"That's a threat, if you were wondering!" exclaimed one of the Death Eaters who flanked the spokesman.

The spokesman whirled around. "You're on report! And if I hear one more word, you'll be out of the organization!"

Peter knew that there was only one way to leave the organization in question.

The spokesman turned back to Peter. "I do apologize for the interruption. I assure you that it will not happen again. And I wonder if you've remembered anything interesting about Sirius Black since we've been talking."

"S-- Sirius is an interesting p-- person," Peter replied. The dratted stammer had returned. Peter was cornered, and everyone present knew it.

"I'm sure. Now, Peter, I don't want to be harsh, as I was forced to be last time. I want to be friendly. I want you to know that I value you and do not wish to cause you pain. I want to protect you from a dangerous world; after all, that is what friends do for one another. But I want _you_ to realize that you have already helped me once. I want _you_ to remember that speaking against me now will place you in Azkaban and lose you the respect and affection of Sirius and his cohorts. I want _you_ to understand that you have already gone too far to turn against me now. And I want _you_ to remember that we are taking over everywhere. We can get into the Ministry's strongholds quite easily. There is nothing to be gained by resisting us. You will only sacrifice more lives. Likely even your own." The man raised his wand. "Believe me when I say I don't want to use this on you."

Peter sighed again. It seemed that he was faced with irrefutable logic. No one expected the Light to win. Not anymore. And he had already made his decision. He should have died at the first opportunity instead of giving that honor to Roberta. "What do you want to know about Sirius?"

"What are some of his character flaws? Surely he has some."

Peter thought for a moment. Although he had expected the question, just now he felt that Sirius was nothing less than perfect. Sirius would never have found himself in this situation. Sirius was so mature, so confident, so brave, so ready to die fighting . . . "Sirius can b-- be impulsive," he answered at last.

"Impulsive. Thank you. Go on."

"He, w-- well, he h-- has a temper. H-- he can't admit when h-- he's w-- wrong. He never d-- doubts himself about anything."

"Would you like to give us examples of times these faults have hindered him?"

"H-- he. Once, h-- he, s-- someone made him m-- mad. S-- so he told t-- them h-- how to g-- get to Remus when R-- Remus was a w-- werewolf. R-- Remus was n-- nearly expelled. H-- he could h-- have b-- been arrested. S-- same f-- for S--Sirius."

"That wasn't so hard, now was it, Peter? We will be in touch. Remember which side you are on, and no harm will come to you. Be certain to pay special attention at those meetings you go to at Hogwarts. And be certain to pay special attention to anything any of your dear friends says to you."

Peter nodded numbly, hating himself as he did so, but reminding himself that he had not actually passed any information this time. In a way, things were looking up.

**December 24-5, 1980**

Remus awoke early on the morning of Christmas Eve. He should have been tired-- he had managed to work several twenty-hour days in the past week despite the full moon-- but instead he was excited, though no one else seemed to want to put his charm-casting skills to work on Christmas decorations.

He had been having even more trouble than usual finding paid work as of late. If he was offered work that did not begin immediately, he never failed to receive a letter filled with hate or regret or both canceling the engagement before it began. Today, though, he could not find it in his heart to care. He was going to spend the holiday at James and Lily's house, and he was going to enjoy it, thank you very much.

At first, he had been slightly concerned about intruding on Harry's first Christmas. Christmas was meant to be a family affair. However, when he had given the situation more thought, it had come to his attention that few of them had any family left. His own parents were still alive, but they were on assignment for Dumbledore. They had never forgotten how grateful they had felt when Remus had been admitted to Hogwarts despite his lycanthropy and they were now willing to risk anything for the old man. Peter said that his mother had trouble seeing him since his sister's death; he reminded her of what she had lost. She was using the holiday to mourn. Sirius no longer acknowledged the family to which he had been born; James' parents were dead. Lily had lost both parents recently in what Muggles believed was a car crash, although Lily suspected that Lord Voldemort had attacked her parents in an attempt to get to her. She was not on speaking terms with her only sister. Socializing with strange wizards was an option for none of them, and this lack of companionship was beginning to affect some of them.

By 'some of them,' Remus meant Sirius. Sirius had been an exceptionally social child and would have been an exceptionally social young man given the opportunity. He was lonely and sometimes even depressed without company.

And so, Remus Apparated to the Potters' house almost as soon as he had washed and dressed. There was an anti-Apparition field over the house itself, but a corner of the front yard had been left unprotected. It was difficult to perform an Apparition under these circumstances, but James and Lily had no associates who did not like a challenge.

Lily came to the door before he could knock. "Good morning, Remus," she smiled. "It's wonderful to see you, but you may want to leave while you can."

"Hey!" complained two indignant voices in unison.

James stormed into view. "You'd think Lily would be more excited that her son is going to be a Quidditch star."

"Yes," said Lily flatly. "I'd be so thrilled if he ended up like you." She was not able to maintain her sarcasm while she looked at James, though, and within seconds the two had realized that they were standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe and were kissing as if they were alone in the world.

Sirius strolled in from the same direction from which James had emerged. "I'd tell them to get a room, but every room in this house _is_ theirs. Look away before you get a cavity."

"How are you, Sirius?" Remus responded.

"Great." A smile lit his face.

"What brought this on?"

James and Lily had detached themselves from one another, and James answered. "Sirius left his broom lying by Harry's crib, and when Harry woke up, he reached out and grabbed it."

"He let go when we came in, but it stayed up for a second," elaborated Sirius.

"And James and Sirius have been slapping each other on the back ever since," Lily completed.

Remus inwardly remarked, not for the first time, on how seamlessly Lily had made herself a part of James' tight circle of friendship. The group's dynamics had hardly changed at all after she had become involved with James; she had certainly never attempted to change James himself. Lily knew when it was appropriate to insult (almost always) and when not (almost never); she could participate in group-speak and finish sentences as well as the rest of them; she had the sense of humor required to deal with a pack of championship mischief-makers; and, importantly from Remus' point of view, she had absolutely no prejudices against werewolves. Upon officially becoming engaged on their last day at Hogwarts, James had told Lily about his animagus abilities but had not told her why he, a mischief-maker often accused of taking nothing seriously, had undertaken such a project. Remus had staged a "chance" meeting with Lily during the next week. They had gone to a deserted corner of a virtually empty wizarding restaurant. That way, Remus had decided, if she was terrified by his very existence she would be able to escape instantly, but they would still be able to talk privately.

X

"I'm glad I saw you today," he began, hoping that he did not sound as if he had rehearsed his speech.

"I'm always glad when I see you," she said with the shameless grin that James (correctly) thought was beautiful.

"Hold that thought. You may not feel that way in a moment." Lily gave him an odd look. "I have something that I need to tell you so James can tell you something else." She gave him an odder look "Well, he's already told you, actually, so this is only the one thing he didn't tell you. Which he's letting me tell you instead."

"Go on," she encouraged, still looking confused.

"When we were at Hogwarts-- do you remember?"

"Two days ago. Yes, I remember."

"Well, did you ever notice that I missed a lot of classes?"

"I suppose so."

"And came back looking ill?"

Her face gentled. "It was hard to miss."

"The classes I missed were always on the days directly after the full moon." He waited for the information to sink in.

"Are you a werewolf?" she asked in a tone neither flippant nor serious.

He nodded stiffly. "Since I was four years old."

To his great shock, she smiled. "That's not so bad, then."

_She's obviously never seen a werewolf transformation_, Remus thought with a hint of amusement. Lily seemed to understand his train of thought, because she corrected "I mean, it must be awful for you but it isn't fatal. I thought you had something worse."

Remus could not help laughing. "Worse? What could possibly be worse?"

"I don't know. Everything I suspected doesn't exist among wizards. But there are so many degenerative Muggle diseases, and I was sure there were wizard equivalents. I did ask James what was wrong with you once, and he brushed me off, and I decided that it wasn't really any of my business anyway."

"That was why I wanted to talk to you. James promised never to tell anyone, and it got more complicated when it became obvious that the two of you were going to get married. He didn't want to keep secrets from you, but he wasn't going to betray me."

"This isn't his secret to tell. Did he think I would have been upset if I found out that he didn't?"

"No, but he still wanted you to know about the animagus transformation if nothing else."

"That was why?"

"That was why. Werewolves are only a danger to people."

Lily stared at him for a moment. "Sirius is in on this too, then? What does 'Padfoot' stand for?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"That's not fair! You can't dangle it about like that and not tell me!" Lily exclaimed indignantly, eyes flashing.

Remus agreed. Sirius had made more than enough mischief in his animal form already. "Padfoot is a dog. An enormous, black dog."

She groaned. "Sirius Black."

"That's right. Wormtail is a rat."

Lily looked temporarily startled. "_Peter_ managed the transformation? I don't mean to sound nasty, but that's _very_ advanced magic."

"James and Sirius pulled him through it."

"Why did he want to be a rat?"

"You don't have much of a choice."

"I know, but Peter is so sweet. What's sweet about a rat?"

Remus shrugged. "Rats can be friendly. They're certainly clever, particularly magical rats . . ." And the conversation had drifted off elsewhere. Remus was still amazed at the absolute nonchalance with which Lily had accepted his true nature.

X

In the present, Lily had returned to pretending to be annoyed by James and Sirius' predictions of Harry's Quidditch prowess. "I told you that you should leave, Remus," she said. "They'll be like this all holiday."

"Remus is happy for Harry," James argued. One of his hands was still entwined in Lily's hair. "Remus understands the importance of Harry's learning to enjoy Quidditch at a young age." He threw a mock-warning glare at Remus. "Right?"

Remus raised his hands in the air in a gesture of submission. "Right. Right."

"Good!" declared Sirius. "Now go in there and congratulate Harry."

Remus obediently walked sideways through the house to Harry's nursery. Harry was lying in his crib, playing with his toes and gurgling happily. "Hi, Harry," Remus said as he entered the room. The baby turned his head toward the source of the voice. Remus leaned his arms on the side rail of the crib. "I just came in to congratulate you on convincing your father and your Uncle Sirius that you'll play Quidditch for England before you get your Hogwarts letter." He made a face at Harry, and Harry giggled in response. He then managed to grab at one of the ties of Remus' cloak, which still dangled from his shoulders. "Harry!" exclaimed Remus with delight. "This obviously means you'll be an expert cloak-maker--"

"Are you making fun of my son?" warned James.

"Of course not, Prongs. I'm making fun of you."

A knock on the door announced-- Remus hoped-- Peter's arrival, and James and Lily went off to greet him. "Make yourself at home, Moony," James called over his shoulder. "Be nice to Padfoot, Harry."

"Has Harry been mean to you, Padfoot?" asked Remus lightly. The baby had let go of his cloak, so he took it off and threw it onto a chair which already held Sirius' cloak and broom.

Sirius shook his head, and an almost dreamy look filled his eyes. "No. Harry loves me." He gazed at the object of their discussion almost hungrily.

"I'm sure he does." The old friends faced each other over the crib, and Remus felt the silence growing awkward.

_This is ridiculous,_ he thought. _Since when do I have trouble knowing what to say to Sirius?_

That was easy. Since the prank.

It had been so simple. All Sirius had had to do was utter one sentence: _If you want to get past the Whomping Willow and find Remus, all you have to do is take a long stick and poke the knot at the base of the tree. _

Had it not been for James, that single sentence would have destroyed Remus' life. First off, he would have been expelled. He would never have become a fully trained wizard, and he would not have had the honor of being the first victim of childhood lycanthropy to receive a complete Hogwarts education. No other young werewolf would ever have been admitted. A rush of anti-werewolf sentiment would have swept the nation, and there would perhaps have been a lynching or two. Remus would likely have died himself; werewolves were not sent to Azkaban. They were simply killed.

Worst of all, from a selfish point of view, Remus would have lived his worst nightmare and done to another human being that which had been done to him, and made that other human into something less.

_Was he even sorry? Even a little bit? _He had been _guilty_, at least. He hadn't quite met Remus' eyes when he had come into the hospital wing the next afternoon, sandwiched between James and Peter, and told Remus exactly what had happened. That had been a part of the punishment Dumbledore had devised for Sirius; Sirius had needed to be the one to explain the details of the situation to Remus. Remus had suffered an enormous loss of blood that night; the wolf had been angered at having been kept from his prey. He had not managed to waken fully until the afternoon classes were nearly over (though as it happened, he and his friends had no afternoon classes). James, Peter, and Dumbledore had then left Remus and Sirius alone, and Sirius had apologized for not being there to help Remus in the morning, and for Remus being in more pain than usual, and for revealing his secret. There had been nothing about the depth of the betrayal; Sirius had reacted as if he had accidentally revealed that Remus fancied a blue-eyed girl in Hufflepuff House, not as if he had accidentally revealed that Remus was, strictly speaking, a bloodthirsty monster. And Sirius repeatedly remarked that he wished his prank had been successful. Wishing Snape's death meant wishing Remus a murderer, did it not?

Remus had found it difficult to spend time with Sirius during the ensuing months. Each little thing that marked Sirius as _Sirius_ became a reminder of how much Remus had invested in their friendship only to have the trust that he had placed in Sirius, the trust that he placed in _no one _but that he had placed in Sirius, thrown away as worthless. It would have been convenient to pretend that they had never been friends at all, but one could hardly convince oneself that even Sirius would spend much of his free time in the library learning advanced methods of transfiguration for just any stranger off the street. In addition, there had been the matter of James and Peter and even Lily and the other Gryffindors in their year. They had been painfully affected by the disturbance in the social dynamics of the group. James and Peter knew the whole story, and while they accepted Sirius as villain and Remus as victim, they could hardly abandon Sirius, who had been James' best friend since birth and who was, quite frankly, the object of Peter's hero-worship. It had been the best solution for Remus to begin faking smiles and laughing at Sirius' jokes and playfully teasing his roommate once more.

But left to his own devices, on days when he needed someone to talk to or give him help, he had no longer called on Sirius except as a last resort. When he was in a situation that left him vulnerable, he could not help remembering, privately, that Sirius had once deeply wounded him.

Such was the case now. The very idea that the Death Eaters wanted anything to do with Remus repulsed him. It made him feel more disgusting than the werewolf curse ever had. After all, it had not been his fault that he had been bitten. (He could have been a bit less foolhardy, but nonetheless, he had been little more than a baby and had not known what he had been getting himself into.) He could open his mouth and say, "Sirius, I've been preoccupied lately because the Death Eaters have been recruiting me. They've been making me think things about myself that I don't want to think. They've been making certain I don't make quite enough money to live comfortably. They've been causing me a great deal of semi-public humiliation."

And Sirius could react by saying "What? Are you a Death Eater? This thing about your not wanting to be recruited by Death Eaters sounds like a ruse. After all, the Death Eaters kill people, and you almost killed Snape once. I've used you as a weapon. Why shouldn't they? Stay away from James and his family and the rest of my friends, would you?"

He probably would not. But since The Night Of The Prank, Remus could not help but feel, if not think, that he could.

He was willing to die for Sirius. He was willing to kill (although not Snape) for Sirius. Trusting Sirius with his own life was one thing. Trusting Sirius with his secrets was another.

Sirius would _never_ betray Remus; but the fact remained that he had. And deep in his heart, Remus could not forget.

So he let the silence between them stretch. Briefly, he wondered if _Harry_ might speak before either of them did.

He was close to correct. In a typical gesture of frustration, Sirius suddenly slapped his palm against the rail of the crib and thus provoked a cry from Harry. Instantly contrite, Sirius scooped up his godson.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, trying to calm down the fussing infant. "I don't know what I was thinking. Come here. Stop crying. Stop crying please, Pronglet?"

Warm and safe in Sirius' arms, Harry did stop crying. It was not really his way to fuss unless he was hungry or wet. Remus smiled at the sight. "He's going to hate that nickname when he gets a little older. One day, you'll use it in front of his friends and he'll be mortified."

"I'll stop before he gets to the point where he knows what we're saying." Sirius carefully sat down, and Remus, brushing cloaks and broom out of the way, sat as well. "James was reading _Transfiguration Today_ to him the other afternoon. That has to be more traumatic than being called 'Pronglet.'"

Remus chuckled. "Harry has everyone from Albus Dumbledore on down expecting great things from him. I hope he can handle the pressure."

Sirius lifted his gaze from Harry to give Remus a very earnest look. "I imagine he'll know that no one really cares if he plays Quidditch or not. As long as he's happy, as long as he has a chance to do what he wants with his life, Lily and James will be happy. And so will everyone else who really cares about Harry."

"He looks happy enough now."

"He almost always does." Sirius looked back at Harry thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder if he's happy because he has no idea what's going on around him or because somehow he senses what's going on and he wants to cheer the rest of us up. I know it sounds ridiculous, but . . ." Sirius trailed off, almost embarrassed.

"One fey child in the making," Remus proclaimed.

"What's going on, Moony?"

Remus startled at the non-sequiter. "What?" he asked innocently, though he knew what Sirius was asking.

For all of his faults, Sirius could never have been called stupid. In addition, Sirius paid an enormous amount of attention to each of his friends. When they had been at Hogwarts, he had known each small detail about each of his roommates' routines. If someone so much as skipped a meal or went a few nights without sleeping, Sirius noticed and attempted to remedy the situation. If the problem was another student, Sirius would deliver a well-timed hint or hex. If the problem was a homework assignment, Sirius knew just how to cheat. If the problem involved parents, Voldemort, or some other great force that resided outside the school, Sirius would go to great lengths to provide a distraction. At times, his protectiveness of his friends had crossed the line from endearing to annoying.

So Sirius could hardly have failed to notice that Remus had had little to say to him that had not involved the weather, the mechanics of the war, or Harry over the past few months.

"Nothing, Remus. Nothing at all." Sirius drew a deep breath that both men knew did not calm him in the slightest. "We were talking about Harry."

"So we were."

"We were discussing how everyone important in Harry's life would love him no matter what. I think that James and Lily would be very hurt if someday something happened that Harry didn't think he could tell them about, particularly if this happens _years_ after they've proven to Harry that _nothing_ could change the way they feel about him."

Remus was a good enough poker player to avoid wincing. "I think that James and Lily are setting themselves up to be hurt if they want to insist that Harry tell them everything when he gets older. Harry is going to have his own life. Harry is going to run into things that he wants to work through for himself before he tells his parents what he's thinking about. That's going to be truer and truer as he gets older. If he does turn out to be the great wizard that we all expect him to be, he'll be mixed up in things that he can't tell his parents about. That it would be dangerous to tell his parents about. He won't be a little boy forever. Things become infinitely more complex with every year that passes."

"He won't be a little boy, but he won't be any less _theirs_. He's theirs forever. They'll worry about him whether or not he tells them what he's doing."

"And it will work both ways. He'll worry about them. He'll love them. He loves them already."

"If he loves them, why can't he trust them?"

"He can trust them. He does trust them. His not telling them everything doesn't negate that."

"It does. It screams _I'm in trouble and I don't trust you to help me out of it_."

"It could scream all kinds of things. Whatever it screams, it doesn't mean he doesn't love them. It doesn't mean he wouldn't do anything for them."

"Anything except tell them what's bothering him."

Remus was almost to the point of spilling his inner thoughts to Sirius just to shut the man up when a voice that was neither his nor Sirius' entered the conversation. "What in the world are the two of you talking about so seriously?" Lily had returned.

"Harry," explained Sirius and Remus in unison.

Lily gave them a quizzical look. "All right. Peter is here. Come out front and play."

"By 'play,' she means 'work,'" called James teasingly.

Sirius and Remus smiled. "Are you going to take that from him?" Sirius asked Lily, challenge evident in his voice.

Lily shook her head. "He's actually right. You don't really have to help, but you should at least come into the kitchen and talk to us. We aren't going to be as somber as you seem to have been in here."

"Of course we'll help. We'll even be cheerful if that's what you want," Remus said ingratiatingly.

"You don't even know what I want you to do."

"It can't be worse than the time James wanted us to get up in the middle of the night and steal winged horses so we could fly around the Forbidden Forrest." By now, the group had reached the kitchen, and James had heard Remus' last comment.

"We weren't stealing them. We were borrowing them."

Sirius agreed. "It makes all the difference," he said solemnly. To everyone else in the room, his solemnity seemed like a joke, but Remus knew that it was a holdover from the conversation that had just been interrupted. Sirius' curiosity had not been satisfied.

Thankfully, Remus' thoughts were distracted from Sirius almost instantly. As it turned out, Lily and Peter were feeling somewhat guilty for not being at work on this holiday. The Ministry never rested, and many of their colleagues were hard at work. Lily had been allowed time off in large part because she had a young baby and no one wanted such an intelligent, sweet, and valuable young woman to miss her son's first Christmas. Peter did not seem to be certain how he had been excused from work.

Lily's and Peter's guilt had been transformed into a desire to bake cookies-- the Muggle way, not the magical way-- to hand through the fires to the Ministry workers destined to spend the wholes of their holidays in their offices. "We might even be able to send some to the people stuck in safehouses. It must be miserable to spend Christmas in one of those," Lily lamented.

"It's pretty miserable to spend time in them at all," Peter put in regretfully. "Especially for children. The Ministry brats get stuck there, and the children of aurors, the children of anyone who's upset You-Know-Who."

"That makes me glad I'm just a stupid Quidditch player who's done nothing to upset Voldemort," said James.

"I know it's selfish, but I hope that we're all very subtle about any anti-Voldemort activity we might be involved in," agreed Lily. "Sirius," she added.

"I can't be subtle--"

"We know," the others interrupted, but Sirius ignored them.

"The entire reason aurors exist is to control illegal activity. Dark activity. The activity Voldemort is encouraging. We can't afford to walk the line just so that Voldemort isn't quite sure which side we're on."

"I'm sure he's sure which side all of us are on. But you're building a reputation as one of the most vocal, passionate defenders of Dumbledore."

"Exactly," said Sirius firmly. "Better me than someone who has children who can be put away in Ministry safehouses and not see the light of day for years on end."

"Years on end? Literally?" interrupted Remus. He had very little direct contact with the Ministry and the efforts it was making in this war; naturally, the Ministry wanted nothing to do with a werewolf. His information came from casual conversations with his friends or from Dumbledore on a need-to-know basis. And he had never especially needed to know about Ministry safehouses.

Peter nodded. "Years on end. Literally. The ones who are too young to go to Hogwarts and who happen to have parents who are incorruptible but without enough influence to swing a nice hiding place don't know what the sun looks like." He glanced down bitterly at the assortment of flour, sugar, and candy before him, and Remus expected that Peter was thinking of his niece, who had died alongside her parents so recently. The others seemed to agree that this line of conversation was not the best one to pursue just now.

"Sirius," began James conversationally, "What do you suppose would happen if we substituted Floo powder for baking powder in some of these recipes?"

Sirius looked up at James thoughtfully. "I think that that would work very nicely. After all, they're both powders. Or perhaps we could just follow the recipes as they've been given to us and add a few interesting . . . surprises."

James nodded. "I like surprises. Who doesn't like surprises?"

"You know, since the beginning of time, wizards and witches have wanted to fly."

"I did know that. I read it in _Quidditch Through the Ages_, I believe."

"A fine piece of literature."

"The most significant piece of literature ever produced."

"I would agree with that assessment."

"However, this is not a discussion of literature. This is a discussion of cookies."

"And the effects of levitation charms on said cookies."

Remus was barely able to keep track of who was saying what, even after ten years' acquaintance with Sirius and James. Lily rolled her eyes at them "You may not bewitch the cookies," she said firmly.

James and Sirius made a show of pretended guilt. "HE STARTED IT!" they at last yelled in unison.

"No wonder everyone always thinks the two of you are brothers," she commented in response to this display.

"Wait, wait, wait a second," said James, sounding genuinely worried. "They think I'm related to the likes of _him_?"

"Be flattered, Prongs," took up an equally concerned-looking Sirius. "That obviously means that they think you're charismatic, shockingly intelligent, indescribably heroic, stunningly handsome . . . is there a wave of blindness going around?"

"Shut up, Sirius," said Lily affectionately. James smirked.

"I didn't mean you, Lily," said Sirius with well-practiced puppy-dog eyes. "Although I must admit I do sometimes wonder if you knew what you were getting yourself into."

"I can't tell you how often I've been asked that. Before and after." It was Sirius' turn to smirk. "And I'd say a good three-quarters of the questions were about the company James keeps, not about James himself."

"Three-quarters of the people you talk to worried about James spending time with _Peter_?"

"Yes, that's exactly it," Lily said, her voice laden with sarcasm. "They were worried about the hardworking, sweet, intelligent, friendly Ministry worker." It was rare for Peter to smirk, but he did so now. Much of the rest of the day passed in the same way, filled with jokes and stories and off-key renditions of Christmas carols and mind games that did not entirely have purposes. Only a very few things were hexed.

Then, as James and Lily were getting ready to take Harry to bed, a knock sounded on the front door and the holiday atmosphere that had pervaded the warm little house vanished. An unexpected knock on the door was not something to be treated lightly even by those who were not at the top of Voldemort's hate list. Sirius had drawn his wand the most swiftly, and headed for the door. James halted his progress with a hand on his shoulder and a look that clearly said _This is my house!_ Sirius acquiesced.

James almost immediately threw open the door, however. "Frank! Come in!"

Frank Longbottom laughed, not a carefree laugh, but not yet the laugh of a man who had been an auror too long. He was one of the youngest full aurors in the system, and most anyone who cared to analyze the situation credited him as being at least partially responsible for Sirius' rapid rise to a position of trust. "There's really no need for the wand." James quickly replaced his wand in his belt, and behind him Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily followed suit. "I'm sorry to interrupt your celebration, but I assumed Sirius would be here, and I need to speak with him."

Sirius bolted into Frank's line of view. "I'm right here," he declared.

"Obviously."

Sirius looked slightly miffed. "Would you like a cookie?"

"What have you done to them?"

"_Done to them?_ I'm appalled by the implication--"

"Implication, nothing. I'll never forget the year I was Head Boy and the lot of you little first years nearly ruined Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup with your allegedly amusing antics. By all reports you've only gotten worse with age."

"All reports are true, but they've done nothing to the cookies this time. Hello, Frank." Lily gave her guest her sweetest smile, and it seemed to have an effect.

"Hello, Lily. I still cannot fathom why you would ever get involved with this group. James would be bad enough, but--" he gestured toward Sirius and plastered a helpless expression to his face.

"I told you that's what people say. I told you," said Lily to her husband's assembled friends. "We'll leave you to your business. Make yourself at home, Frank. Time for bed, Harry."

Harry giggled sleepily. Frank watched Lily and James disappear with an almost hungry look on his face. "I wish I could spend more time with Neville. He barely knows who I am," Remus heard Frank say to Sirius before he and Peter ushered themselves back into the kitchen.

"It must be nice for Sirius to work with Frank," said Peter as he methodically began to clean up the mess the day's activities had made of the room. "Everyone looked up to him so much that first year, even if we all said he was no fun."

Remus nodded. "He must have had a terrible time trying to control us, though. I'm sure we lost more points than we won that year, and the Head Boy always wants his own house to win."

"So does everyone."

"True enough."

Peter seemed to squirm as the conversation died. He had never dealt especially well with silence. To Peter, silence meant that something was wrong. Occasionally, silence had been known to make Peter blurt out a thought that he would ordinarily be wise enough to keep to himself. Sirius, James, and Remus had used this personality trait to great effect in years past; and Remus waited for Peter to say something now. Peter did not disappoint. "I wonder what they're talking about," he mused aloud. "I hope Sirius isn't going to be in too much danger."

"He chose the most dangerous job for himself."

"How can you say that so unemotionally? They're having a top secret meeting out there."

"They have top secret meetings every day. That's what aurors do. Isn't that what the Ministry does?"

"Not the parts that I'm dealing with. There are whole departments that function as if there isn't a war going on at all." Peter paused. "Before I started working there, I would have said that that was fine. Great, even. The world has to keep running, and there's no reason the war should seep into everything. But more and more often, it seems like not considering the war in everything you do is just stupid."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "No offense, Peter, but this is a new attitude for you."

"I know. Trust me, you're no more surprised than I am."

However, Peter did not seem surprised. He seemed confident and at ease. _This is the first time I've ever seen him talk about Voldemort without becoming entirely overwrought,_ Remus noted internally. _As long as we're alone, I wonder if I should tell him . . . perhaps if I tell someone, I'll act normally and Sirius will stop using his auror-skills and his Sirius-skills on me. _"I'm not exactly surprised. It's just noticeable."

"Because I'm as brave as the rest of you?" asked Peter with a hint of annoyance.

"I never doubted that you were as brave as anyone else. I'm sorry if I made it sound like--"

"No, don't apologize. I don't know why I snapped at you."

Remus nodded his acceptance and briefly focused the whole of his attention on the dishes he was magically cleaning and floating back to their places in the cupboard. Then he spoke again. "How do you feel about having a top-secret meeting now?"

"We aren't dying Sirius' hair purple, are we?"

"No. Why?"

"Because the last time you and I had a secret meeting, we ended up dying Sirius' hair purple."

"It looked rather good, as I recall. But I just . . ." Remus trailed off, deciding that having this discussion was a bad idea after all.

Unfortunately, he had gone past the point of no return. "What's wrong, Moony?" asked Peter.

"Do you know anyone who's been recruited by Voldemort? Not just invited, but recruited hard?"

Peter's face turned so pale that Remus wondered if he might faint. "I don't believe so, no."

"Yes, you do."

Peter's face was now tinged with green. "_You?_ You, Moony?"

"That's right. Since August. Owls and threats and potential employers having lycanthropy-related revelations."

Peter collapsed into a chair, shaking slightly. _I was right,_ Remus thought. _He isn't up to hearing about this._

"I'm sorry," Peter said.

"It's hardly your fault."

"I'm still sorry. From what I've heard, the Death Eater recruiters are hard to handle. And even harder to resist." An odd note of pleading colored his final statement.

"I don't find them hard to resist," Remus rushed to assure. A look of loathing crossed Peter's features. _I never should have said a word. Look how Peter's reacting-- Peter, not Sirius who goes off the deep end about everything._ _Not James, who has a child to consider and every right to be paranoid about who goes near him._ "I never did anything to make them think I'd want to join them, I swear to you!"

"I believe you," said Peter. For a time, neither man said anything. Peter made a noise as if he had been about to break the silence and then thought better of it.

"What?" asked Remus warily. _I might as well see how bad the damage is._

"I was just going to ask you why you decided it was worth resisting him when he was doing the things that he does to his recruits, but I thought better of it."

_Thought better of it? Is he worried about offending me?_ "What would you do, if it were you? I don't mean which side would you choose-- I know that, obviously-- but what would you tell people?"

"Why would I tell them anything?"

"Because they think your behavior is strange and they want to know why, but you don't want to admit that you've been recruited."

Peter snapped his fingers. "Sirius."

"Correct."

"I thought he was acting a bit off today. He didn't say anything directly to you and I wondered if you'd had a row."

"Not exactly, but close to it."

"You know how Padfoot is when he gets a hold of a bone. He's not going to let up on you."

Remus sighed, suddenly feeling deeply weary as his worst suspicions were confirmed. "I know." He sat down and let his head sink to his hands. "What would you do, Wormtail?"

"About Padfoot?"

"Yes. Should I just risk telling him?"

"_NO!"_ Peter answered so suddenly and vehemently that Remus' head shot up.

"Why? You don't seem to be taking it too badly."

"No-- but-- well, you know how I feel about Sirius."

Remus did.

"But that being said," Peter continued, "he isn't perfect. You know he's rather prone to snap judgments. And he holds grudges. And once he decides he's right, there's nothing that can change his mind." Peter drew a deep breath. "When-- I don't know if I should tell you this, but I'm going to. When Padfoot and Prongs and I realized you were a werewolf, Padfoot . . . he just panicked. He said it was unforgivable for Dumbledore to frighten us out of the Forbidden Forrest by threatening us with werewolves and then allow a werewolf to live in our dormitory. He was ready to call the Daily Prophet and have you thrown out. Prongs ended up hitting him in the face. Twice. He calmed down and came around, and he threw himself into the Animagus transformation and all, but…."

A wave of melancholy swept over Remus. "I know. Sirius told me that, a few years ago. Said he was sorry for thinking that way-- said he just _wasn't_ thinking at first. I wouldn't have known if he hadn't told me. He was just the same as you and James when you came to me and told me you knew."

"You heard him at the Rally of Light, accusing everyone he could name. I don't think this is something you should tell him now. He might not go mad over it, but he might, and that would just put James and Lily in the middle. And me."

"I don't want to do that, but what else can I do?"

Peter shrugged regretfully. "Get a bit too busy to spend time with him is all I can think of. Just until they stop recruiting you, or it stops bothering you and you can stop acting so, well, moony." Both men smiled at the small joke. "It might be best to stay away from James and Lily, too. You know how they don't want Harry to be made a target, and if you keep spending all your free time with them, well, the Death Eaters might decide to get to you through him. They can't go through James and Lily-- they probably want to recruit them as well-- but Harry's just a baby. He can't really defend himself."

Remus inwardly vowed to take Peter's advice, but only after the holiday had been celebrated. He put the thought of leaving his friends out of his mind all during the evening filled with warm butterbeer and plans to spoil Harry worse than any child had yet been spoiled.

Everyone remained in Lily and James' house that night, and the next morning was greeted with a scramble of activity. If Remus had stopped to analyze the situation, he would have thought it rather silly; Harry was only five months old, and would not remember this Christmas. Nonetheless, while the adults had given each other a few token presents, they had lavished seemingly hundreds of gifts upon Harry. Wizards and witches whom James and Lily barely knew had sent presents to the little boy whose sunny disposition captured the heart of everyone he met. Dumbledore had sent Harry a bib with "Hogwarts 1998" emblazoned across the front as well as a colorful, enchanted bowling game. Harry would need to grow a bit before playing with it. There were stuffed unicorns and dragons and Gryffindor lions, and beautiful wall hangings, and books that read stories aloud as the pictures changed of their own accord (such books were rather like Muggle television, according to Lily). There were miniature Quidditch caps and shirts just the right size for a baby, and there were music boxes and games, which Harry could not appreciate just yet. The five adults spent the better part of the morning sifting through Harry's loot, although Harry himself was more interested in a particularly bright length of ribbon.

Light and laughter still filled the air at the end of the day when Remus Apparated back to his flat, which was cold and stark in contrast.


	4. Worm Moon

**March 20, 1981: Worm Moon**

Sirius managed to fly his enchanted motorcycle almost all of the way to James' house before he became aware of the full moon. _The Worm Moon, _he remembered that the March full moon was called. _Like the worms who are compromising the future of humanity by siding with Voldemort. _

1981 should have been a good year. He and his friends were still young-- the season for celebrating twenty-first birthdays was upon them-- but they were no longer subject to random school rules intended to keep them from enjoying themselves to the fullest.

Instead, 1981 had begun as 1980 had ended: with fear and bloodshed. The Quidditch League had finally been shut down, and James had begun to work for Dumbledore openly. Lily had been concerned-- for someone who was looking to be an auror was in much more danger than someone who was a Quidditch player with a few friends who were rather politically outspoken-- but she had agreed that James could do nothing else. The war needed fighting, and James had the talent and nerve necessary.

Tonight, James and Sirius were to go on a raid of the Ministry offices. Dumbledore suspected that the Ministry was the source of many of the information leaks that had lately been plaguing those working to bring about Voldemort's downfall. As a junior auror, Sirius technically worked for the Ministry, but Frank was his direct supervisor and Frank had acknowledged this extra-curricular activity with a wink and a nudge. As a former Hogwarts Head Boy, Frank had a great deal of loyalty to Dumbledore. James did not worry about such things, since he made no pretensions to be working for anyone but Dumbledore. He hoped to join the auror program officially at the soonest opportunity, however.

James and Sirius had considered sneaking into the Ministry building through Lily's office, but they had ultimately decided that this point of entry would be too obvious. They were much more comfortable, and felt just as safe, entering the building through Peter's office. Peter would be waiting there to aid them, and it would be almost like old times-- Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

_But not Moony. Not on the night of the full moon._ He wouldn't have come along, in any case. There would have been no reason for him to do so, although Sirius would have welcomed his presence.

_I miss him_, Sirius was loathe to admit. _Where has he been, anyway?_

Sirius had seen Remus just once since the end of the winter holidays. That had been at Harry's baptism. James and Lily had deliberately scheduled the event far in advance for a day which would allow all of their friends to attend. On all other occasions, though, Remus had been absent. He had made assorted excuses (though none as unbelievable as "my mother is sick"). The full moons, to which Sirius had looked forward as a monthly excuse to see his friends now that the war had scattered them to the winds, passed without an adventure more often than not. At least once, Remus had not gone to the abandoned shed on the virtually deserted manor to transform. Sirius had stopped in to check on him the next morning, unexpected and uninvited, and had found both flat and shed devoid of his favorite werewolf.

Sirius cut the engines on his motorcycle well before he approached James' house. Obviously, an enchanted motorcycle did not need engines to fly, but Sirius felt that their presence made the bike seem more authentic. They also added control.

The bike dropped sharply from the sky and landed softly in the shadows of James' yard. James emerged from his front door at once. Behind James, Sirius could just make out Lily's long hair, its red color dimmed by the lack of light.

James and Sirius nodded at one another without speaking and Disapparated to a deserted house less than a mile away. It had lately been attacked by Death Eaters, and no one dared venture near it now. Its fireplace, however, had not yet been disconnected from the Floo network, and it would be simple for James and Sirius to transport themselves to the Ministry.

They arrived in the fireplace shared by Peter and several other petty Ministry officials without incident. Peter was awaiting them. His wand was drawn and he looked nervous. Both James and Sirius tried to smile reassuringly.

"I'm certain there's no one in this wing of the building," Peter informed them in a low voice. "I can't say for elsewhere."

"Thanks, Wormtail," murmured James. "What I wouldn't give for a Marauder's Map."

"You do have the cloak?" asked Sirius.

"Yes. Of course. Don't tell me the all-mighty auror thinks he'll need it?"

Sirius shrugged. "I thought you might, Jamesey."

"Just wait. I'll pass you out. You'll see. Frank will wonder why he ever thought _you_ were the one to put through the ranks like a dragon was after you."

"In your dreams."

"You almost _never_ appear in my dreams."

"Thank Merlin. I wouldn't want Lily coming after me to beat me up."

"Prongs? Padfoot?" Peter was looking more nervous by the second. Sirius could hardly blame him, and he reminded himself that he was no longer a teenager pulling pranks with his best friend. No, he was an adult with an important job as well as a duty to protect James not from detention but from capture and death.

"Just go to your desk, Wormtail," said Sirius with a calm he did not entirely feel. Frank had lately been warning him about the problems that his quick temper and impulsive nature might cause, and Sirius was doing his best to heed the older man's advice. "If we aren't back inside an hour, either leave or come after us. Your choice-- no stupid risks. We'll go from left to right."

Peter nodded and retreated. "Be careful," he muttered under his breath.

Sirius and James moved quickly and efficiently through wing after wing. Their senses and thought patterns had been honed by many years of searching out hidden doors and secret passageways, but not a single clue to the recent breaches of security arose. Reluctantly, they admitted temporary defeat and let Peter know that they were leaving.

They exited the abandoned house and were fractions of a second from Disapparating when they heard a sharp clatter. Instinctively, they drew their wands to cover one another and defend against whatever threat had made the noise.

"_You fool!"_ hissed a cold voice.

"I'm sorry!" exclaimed a second, frantic, voice.

"As well you might be! You could have compromised the entire operation."

"But no one goes near a house where Death Eaters have struck!"

"You're only saying that because they haven't so far. You never know when some young auror with delusions of heroism will brave the _horrors_ of an empty house to unravel the plot of the _evil_ Death Eaters." His laugh sent shivers up and down Sirius' spine. "We have to get over to the Bones' house now! Do you want Our Lord to be waiting for us?"

The night was pitch black, but Sirius and James imagined that they could see the horrified expressions on each other's faces nonetheless.

The duo of Death Eaters Disapparated with audible pops.

"Get Frank," Sirius ordered James. "Notify the Ministry and then Dumbledore."

James snorted softly in the darkness. "While you go to the Bones' house alone? I don't approve of that plan."

"You don't have to."

"No, I don't. I've never taken orders from you, Padfoot, and I don't intend to start now." James punctuated his statement by vanishing.

Sirius swore, rather more loudly than was wise, and followed.

He did not need to look for James when he reappeared in the street before the Bones' home. James was shouting at the top of his lungs. "SUE! BRAD! WAKE UP! HE'S COMING! GET YOUR WANDS! _SUE! BRAD!" _

An angry flash of green light illuminated the street, and Sirius saw James' profile clearly. "JAMES! GET DOWN!" He added a few choice obscenities as he threw himself over James and knocked his friend out of the range of another curse.

Their arms and legs remained tangled together as they groped for their wands.

Brad and Sue Bones had come outside, looking half-asleep but with their wands drawn. A pop was heard, and then another.

"Have they gone?" called Brad tensely. "Lumos." A pool of light surrounded him.

"Look out!" yelled James. Brad Bones was one of many wizards who, while powerfully magical, had very little common sense. His lit wand made him a target.

"Avada Kedavra!" It was obvious that at least one Death Eater remained.

"Expeliarmus!" James yelled just in time. The spells seemed to turn each other aside, and to Sirius' horror, James began to duel with the masked Death Eater.

He need not have worried. As soon as James missed a beat, the Death Eater Disapparated. The street fell silent but for the grateful cries of thanks that Brad and Sue lavished on James and, to a lesser extent, on Sirius.

"I knew he would come after us," Sue explained tearfully. "We were fighting him, and we were prepared. But my brother-in-law and his wife got sick, and our niece is staying with us-- they'd never have left Susan alive-- I can't believe they named her for me--" she broke off, shuddering.

"Is she still in the house?" asked James matter-of-factly. James never lost his head in a crisis. Sirius marveled at how calmly James entered the house, which so far as Sirius knew he had never entered before, and returned with a baby about Harry's age.

"Susan!" Brad exclaimed, and took the child from James' arms. He then resumed thanking James, who managed to usher the small party inside the house. He then used the fire to contact the Ministry and Dumbledore, and evenly answered questions and gave statements.

The sun was shining brightly by the time Sirius and James finally left the scene. "Want to come home with me for breakfast?" James offered.

"Please." Sirius was famished, and would have invited himself had James not done so.

As soon as Sirius and James appeared before the Potters' house, the front door flew open and Lily flung herself into James' arms. "Are you all right?"

Waves of contrition washed over James' face. "I'm sorry I didn't get a message to you. We were coming back from the Ministry when--"

"I know, I know." Lily waved off James' explanations with another hug. "It was in the Daily Prophet. Accio!" The mentioned paper flew out the door of the house and into her hand. She began to unfold it and hand it to her husband, but midway through this simple task she paused and stared at him, as if once more memorizing a face that she surely had memorized long ago.

Sirius felt oddly like an intruder and was about to Disapparate and scrounge his breakfast elsewhere when Lily broke her trance and handed the paper to James. Then she hugged Sirius as well, to Sirius' slight surprise. "Are you all right, too, Padfoot?" she murmured against his shoulder.

"Just fine. So's James, really."

"I know. I was just scared."

Sirius had nothing to say to this confession. Lily had been right to be scared. He had been scared himself.

James broke the silence with his laughter.

"The Daily Prophet is accurate, as usual?" asked Sirius. The newspaper was well known to be a mouthpiece for the Ministry. Its stories seldom bore a striking resemblance to the facts. Defeats were downplayed, victories were exaggerated, and everything was simplified.

"No! This really is accurate, this is! I'm impressed."

Lily had recovered enough from her shock to roll her eyes. Sirius grew ever more curious. "What?" he demanded. He had never dealt well with curiosity.

James threw the newspaper to his friend. "Read it out loud, Padfoot. Something this good needs to be read out loud. But come inside. That's where the food is."

Obediently, Sirius read as they trooped inside and set about getting breakfast.

"_New Heroes and New Hope_

"_by Honor Inverse, Daily Prophet Staff Writer_

"_At long last, it appears that there is new hope in the war against You-Know-Who. _

"_The name 'James Potter' is not a new one to readers of the Daily Prophet, or of any publication that reports on the happenings of the temporarily-defunct Quidditch League. His prowess at the sport beloved by the wizarding world has been well-documented, but it seems that the other abilities which led to his appointment as Hogwarts Head Boy of 1978 have been overlooked. This shall no longer be the case._

"_Early this morning, the handsome wizard performed a task heretofore thought to be impossible. He prevented the murder of Sue and Brad Bones, as well as their niece, Susan, after You-Know-Who had marked the family for death. No witch or wizard has ever survived after being targeted by You-Know-Who. _

"_Mr. Potter was taking a late night stroll-- he is surely an exceptionally brave man!-- when he overheard a gang of Death Eaters planning the attack on the Bones family. While he was concerned for his own safety, as he is father to a months-old child whom he wishes to see to maturity, he could not allow one more atrocity to occur within our small community. He Apparated to the scene of the would-be crime and warned the Bones of the impending attack. When the Death Eaters, and perhaps even their leader, appeared, Mr. Potter single-handedly dueled with them and drove them from the neighborhood._

"_His heroic behavior without doubt comes as no surprise to his wife, Lily, who was Hogwarts Head Girl to his Head Boy. Mrs. Potter is now a fast-rising Ministry of Magic official while still finding time to rear the couple's first child, Harry. This beautiful young family embodies the future of the magical world. Young, brave, and beautiful, the Potters bring intelligence and determination to the war effort._

"_As long as there is breath in Mr. Potter's attractive, athletic body, You-Know-Who will not achieve his goals."_

Sirius began to laugh as he finished reading. "Have you met this woman, Prongs?"

"Never."

"I figured as much."

James snickered as they sat down to their much-anticipated meal. "You're just jealous that they didn't mention you."

"I'm not a Quidditch star. And an auror can't be portrayed as a heroic vigilante. And I don't have a beautiful wife and child. And Voldemort would want to know what I was up to if I were out there. He'd know someone sent me."

"Whether that's true or whether it's not, you're jealous."

Sirius ignored his friend and began to eat. He went directly to work when he had finished, and by the time his shift ended he was truly exhausted. He returned to his flat and was barely able to lock the door and windows properly before falling asleep.

He awoke to the news that Voldemort had returned to kill Sue and Brad Bones, and had finished the job. The one bright spot in this depressing bit of information was the fact that young Susan had been returned to her parents, who were not especially high on Voldemort's list of enemies, and had therefore lived. The Bones' obituary took up less space than a new article about James, however. The wizarding world was hungry for heroes, and the war was hungry for a symbol. It seemed that James fit both bills.

**July 31, 1981**

"Are you leaving now, Pettigrew?"

"Yes, Sir, unless you need me to stay."

Peter certainly hoped that his supervisor had no reason to keep him. His _other_ supervisor would be greatly displeased if he failed to wish young Harry Potter a happy birthday.

"No, no, off you go. Do give my regards to Lily."

"I will, Sir." In spite of himself, Peter snickered mentally. Virtually every wizard in the Ministry had been known to cast an interested eye on the beautiful if very much married Lily from time to time. He had occasionally overheard them wondering why Lily, who was set to rise swiftly through the ranks of the Ministry, spent so much time with that little Peter Pettigrew, who was kindly enough but unlikely to amount to overmuch. They were known to have graduated from the same Hogwarts house in the same year, but that hardly seemed reason enough for Lily to go out of her way to arrange her schedule to synchronize her lunches and breaks with Peter's. The Ministry, apparently, had never before had two employees who happened to be friends.

_She isn't your friend any longer_, Peter reminded himself. _Or rather, she is your friend, but you most certainly are not hers. You cannot afford to romanticize your relationship with her. You may have to turn on her. You will __probably__ have to turn on her. Blast James for making such a big deal of himself, anyway!_

James' heroism had been a normal part of life since he and his friends had been eleven years old. It had always been a most wonderful thing to Peter. Peter had had the run of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in large part because no one would have dared to disturb one of the dearest friends of the magnificent James Potter. The Great James Potter could cast spells no one else could understand and break flying records thought unreachable. He was intimidated by nothing and no one. As long as James was a member of Gryffindor House, everyone somehow knew that the House would win the House Cup at the end of the year. James would always find a way. Furthermore, James would find a way without slipping into the gray areas of competition favored by the Slytherins. James never had to wonder about right and wrong; James instinctively knew what was right and did it.

As he had been a symbol of all that was good about Gryffindor, he was now a symbol of all that was good about Light Magic, Hogwarts, Dumbledore, the Ministry, the Good Fight, and the Worthy Cause. His face had been plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet repeatedly since he had left off playing Quidditch and taken up doing Dumbledore's bidding full time. Advertisements meant to recruit warriors of various sorts as well as financial support for the war also featured James, Lily, and Harry. "They're giving all they can. Shouldn't you?" one caption read. Another proclaimed "Light Magic has a future. It's here," and a third wondered "Aren't they worth defending? They think you are."

Peter was not surprised that James and Lily had allowed their likenesses to be used in a public relations campaign. They had long been willing to do anything to help Dumbledore, and while the advertisements were slightly embarrassing to the couple, they caused them no real harm. He was faintly surprised that they allowed Harry's picture to be used-- they were quite protective of their young son-- but the wizarding community was so small that most everyone knew what Harry looked like in any case. Besides, the baby was not about to be left alone to get into any sort of trouble whether he was famous or not.

The public relations campaign had indeed had an effect on the way Peter thought about the war. He no longer worried that he had made the wrong decision. The advertisements featuring James were meant to convince Peter that, with heroes like this, there was still hope that You-Know-Who would not take over the entire wizarding world.

But Peter knew a secret.

James was not a hero.

James was a person.

James had cried at the death of his parents-- parents whom he had been unable to protect. James had become anxious at the birth of his child, and had worried that Harry might be a squib. James had sometimes had trouble completing his homework, and had been forced to cheat from Sirius. James had lost his temper on more than one occasion. James had said careless, thoughtless things to his friends and his professors.

James was not perfect.

James could not single-handedly save the wizarding world.

Those who volunteered their time and money after hearing the exaggerated tales of James' bravery wanted desperately to believe that there was hope for their old way of life. No one liked change. However, Peter was smart. Peter knew James. Peter knew that James was not the second coming of Dumbledore. Peter knew that James had flaws-- and chief among these flaws was idealism. James was, first and foremost, and optimist. For example, when Sirius had nearly made a killer of Remus and gotten himself expelled from Hogwarts, James had instantly believed that Sirius would never do such a thing again. He still trusted Sirius above and beyond his other friends despite the fact that Sirius had shown himself capable of incredible betrayals. Remus, who was more logical and detached, obviously still had trouble trusting Sirius. He had told Peter as much. But to James, the incident was all but forgotten.

James, as smart as he was, did not understand that he was fighting a losing cause. Peter did.

_If James would only keep a lower profile, I'd be able to help him,_ Peter lamented not for the first time as he left the Ministry offices on foot. He still had to pick up Harry's present. Lily and James had decided that the outpouring of gifts on Christmas had been a bit excessive, and had forbidden those invited to Harry's party to bring a gift this time. However, Lily had ordered a few trinkets for her son, and had asked Peter to collect this one. _When You-Know-Who takes over and gives me power, I'm sure I'll be able to say that my friends, my former friends, have seen the error of their ways and do not deserve to die._

_But I can't do that for James and his family if they make themselves the poster children for Dumbledore's Cause. First Sirius, and now James. Remus might be the only one I can protect at all-- hopefully, he isn't too rude when he refuses the recruiters._

Unwillingly, Peter still felt the odd pang of guilt when he thought of Remus. Remus had come to him expecting someone he trusted, when he trusted so few people, and had unknowingly confessed to the devil, as he would have seen it. Remus had followed Peter's advice to the letter and had hardly had any contact with the Potters or Sirius since the winter holidays.

_Sirius will get suspicious sooner or later. Dumbledore knows he has a new leak. But I don't think anyone thinks it's me. Why would they? No one ever thinks of me right off._

Peter paid for Harry's gift and tucked it carefully into a pocket of his robes, vaguely thanking the sales clerk.

_I've not passed any truly important information. Just bits and pieces. My new friends in You-Know-Who's movement are getting impatient, though._

At their most recent impromptu meeting, Peter had been threatened and even given his first taste of the Cruciatus Curse. It was not an experience he was eager to repeat.

_They used to want Sirius, and now they want James. They say it's like cutting the head off a snake. If James is giving people hope, they want to stamp out that hope. They want me to spend more time with him. That's almost a silly request. I've always spent most of my free time with James. They want a report on Harry's party. And they want me to drive a wedge through James' relationship with everyone he loves._

_It'll be impossible to get between James and Lily. It'll be just as bad getting between James and Sirius. But thank Merlin Remus never really got over that Snape incident!_

While he had always known that he was not in the same league as James and Sirius academically (who was?), Peter had always been very intuitive. And his intuition told him that it would not take long for Sirius' infamous paranoid temper to kick in and cause some sort of trouble in the little paradise the Potters and their friends were struggling to build.

Peter concentrated with all of his might and Apparated to James' house.

Sirius was sitting in the front lawn earnestly discussing a stuffed unicorn with Harry. The discussion was, if one wanted to be technical, rather one-sided, but Harry did seem interested. Sirius looked up sharply when Peter appeared. His handsome face was all planes and angles in the slanting July sunlight. "Hi, Wormtail," he called. Peter replied in kind, but Sirius seemed not to notice. The whole of his attention was directed at his godson. "Can you say 'Wormtail?'" he queried. "Wormtail." He pointed at Peter. "Wormtail."

Harry looked at Peter with an almost amusing sort of seriousness, but he said nothing.

"I suppose three words are enough for him for now," suggested Peter as we went to sit beside Sirius and Harry.

"Four," corrected Sirius happily.

"Mama, Dada, and Paff, for Padfoot. What else?"

"Ba, for bottle."

"Does that count?"

"_YES!"_ answered Sirius with no small amount of anger. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE ARGUING OVER THINGS LIKE A SECOND SYLLABLE ON HIS BIRTHDAY!"

Peter was rather taken aback. _You'll wish you hadn't been so quick to yell at me when the Dark Lord takes over_, he thought, and instantly felt contrite. "Sorry," he said aloud.

"Me, too. I shouldn't have snapped."

_Glad he doesn't know what I'm apologizing for. But as long as he's not in the mood to yell again, I can probably get away with asking about Remus._ "Is Moony here yet?"

Sirius' face darkened so slightly that Peter would have missed it had he not been looking carefully. "Not yet. I'm not entirely sure he's coming at all."

"Lily said he was."

"What else would he tell her? 'I don't care about you or James or your son's birthday?'"

_Oh, Padfoot, you are nothing if not predictable_. "Why wouldn't he care about Harry's birthday? He adores Harry. Everyone does_." Including me. Hard not to like the little bugger even if he can't say "Wormtail."_

"How often have you seen him since the new year?"

_Dozens of times. Talks to me when he can't talk to you, doesn't he?_ "Well, he was at Harry's baptism."

"Six months ago!"

"Last full moon."

"How many full moons out of seven so far this year? Two? Three? And he was distant well before that. I think it's been almost a year since he's been normal."

"He's never been normal," said Peter with what he hoped sounded like forced lightness.

"Normal for him. Do you even know where he's working?"

"For Dumbledore, of course."

"Other than that."

"Perhaps he's gone full time to Dumbledore, like James."

"He hasn't officially. His name isn't on the payroll. And before you say James isn't either, James has inherited all the money in the world already, and there's Lily's salary."

"It might be that Moony can't say where he's been and Dumbledore doesn't want it known. Moony keeps secrets very well. That's probably why Dumbledore trusts him with whatever this is." Now Peter tried to sound admiring. Sirius' brow furrowed. _Do I know Sirius or do I know Sirius?_

The front door opened then, and Lily and James wandered outside and greeted Peter. "Is it party time?" asked Sirius.

"Remus isn't here," Lily answered.

"I'm not so certain he's coming."

"_I_ am."

"He's hardly been around at all lately," Sirius protested.

"Which is why he'll be here today," Lily said firmly.

Sirius snorted, but whatever he had to say about Remus was pushed to the side by the werewolf's arrival. James, Lily, and Peter called out their greetings. Sirius did not. Lily shot her son's godfather an annoyed look but concerned herself with Harry. "Say 'Hi, Moony,'" she encouraged. "Can you say 'Moony?'"

"He can't. We went through this with Wormtail," Sirius scowled.

"Moony," Lily repeated deliberately.

"Moony," said Harry.

Most of the adults erupted in cheers. Harry looked very pleased with himself, and out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see that Remus was fairly glowing. Harry had just made Remus' day, if not his year.

"Who's that?" James prompted his son. James' face was also alight with happiness.

"Moony!" Harry repeated more confidently.

"That's number five," James declared. He could have been no more proud had Harry just single-handedly defeated the Dark Lord.

"What was number four?" asked Remus curiously, still looking deliriously flattered.

"Haven't been around much, have you?" asked Sirius. Remus was obviously taken aback.

"What's the matter with you, Padfoot?" James half-snapped.

"Nothing." Sirius did his best to look innocent. "It was just an observation."

"Here, Moony," Lily interrupted. "Since Harry has become so fond of you, _you_ may carry him inside."

Peter wondered if he was imagining the fury on Sirius' face. _Sirius is possessive of Harry, but this is a bit much unless he's really getting to hate Remus. I hope this isn't just wishful thinking._

As Remus took Harry into the kitchen, where a cake shaped like a Golden Snitch awaited him, Sirius jerked Peter aside roughly. "Did you see that?" Sirius snarled.

"What?"

"Remus!" said Sirius in a tone that most people reserved for slow, backward children. "I can't believe he had the nerve to come in here and pick Harry up like that! Like everything's normal."

"Lily did ask Remus to pick him up." _Sound like you're defending Moony. Good, Peter._

"I can't imagine what she was thinking. Harry barely even knows Remus."

"He said his name." _Just push Sirius a little further._

"Remus probably bewitched him or something. I should go check for hex marks." Sirius was unable to say more because Lily circled back to see what was keeping him and Peter.

"We're coming," Peter assured her. "Just slowly. Hey--" He paused as if thinking.

"What?" Lily's curiosity had never been a difficult thing to arouse.

"That baby book you and James had, the one with the milestones in it, didn't it say a baby should be afraid of strangers by Harry's age?"

"So?"

"Well, Harry doesn't seem to mind having Moony carry him around--"

"Remus is _not_ a stranger, even if he isn't around here all the time like the two of you are. Now come help Harry eat his cake." Sirius stalked into the kitchen without another word. He still looked rather angry.

What all of Sirius' friends understood, and Sirius did not, was that the war was taking a toll on him in a fairly unique way. Sirius relished attention of any kind. Hogwarts had been a safe haven, where interaction with others was not only possible but encouraged. Sirius had, for the most part, thrived. However, the rest of the wizarding world had been taken over by paranoia years before. One trusted one's family and, if one was lucky, one had a friend or two to trust. Sirius' family was out of the picture, but he was very lucky when it came to friends. He had enough interaction with others to sustain his extroverted personality. Now, Remus had removed himself from Sirius' small collection of companions and Sirius was feeling the loss terribly. He could not articulate this feeling; he had never been an introspective man. So he simply felt an irrational hatred for Remus.

Or so Peter suspected. He did not especially care about Sirius' motivation as long as Sirius and Remus kept each other distracted and did not focus their attention on their other friend before the Dark Lord had a chance to complete his work.

The celebration of Harry's birthday went smoothly. The group was not interrupted and Sirius managed to hold his tongue when it came to Remus. Peter suspected that the brief reprimand from James had put Sirius on his guard. Sirius was terribly possessive of and worried about James, and if James wanted Sirius to treat Remus with something like respect, then Sirius would grit his teeth and do it.

Peter spent much of the afternoon, which stretched into late evening, attempting to have a private conversation with Remus. Remus had to be encouraged to continue to avoid Sirius if Peter's plan was to work. Sirius and Remus were both too intelligent, and too deeply fond of one another, to continue their private war if they realized that, in truth, they had no anger toward one another. Impulsive, attention-loving Padfoot and laid-back, clever Moony were much stronger together than apart.

_Together_, thought Peter with a twinge of paranoia_, they might discover that I'm not exactly what I seem. James is safe-- James is busy with Lily and Harry, and besides, he never wants to believe that anyone could hurt anyone. But Sirius has seen a great deal already in this war. He knows better. Remus has been styled an outcast for something over which he has no control. He knows better, too._

The object of Peter's thoughts now approached with a smile. "I believe we're being kicked out, Wormtail," he said.

"You are _not_ being kicked out!" Lily snapped playfully in the background.

"We all have work tomorrow. It's better to leave," Sirius stated pointedly. _He wants to leave, too? Spending time with Moony bothers him that much?_

"Moony? Can I stop by your flat on the way home? I want to check something in that vampire book you have," Peter whispered so that Sirius could not hear.

Remus, of course, instantly agreed, and as he Disapparated from the Potters' front yard, Peter tried desperately to invent a reason for needing the book. _I was just curious-- came across an old case at work the other day, no, he'll want details-- I overheard, no, that doesn't make much sense-- I thought I saw something else by the author-- why wouldn't I have just asked him? He must know who wrote it._

"Thanks, Moony," he said as Remus matter-of-factly handed him the book. "I was at work the other day-- there was this old file-- the witch who used to have my job, well--" _That the best you can do, Peter?_

Luckily, Remus waved him off as if it did not especially matter why Peter wanted to see the book. _Which it wouldn't, I suppose._ Remus then offered Peter a drink, and Peter of course accepted, and they briefly discussed Harry. _He doesn't suspect a thing. I should just go ahead and ask him. I'm the caring, concerned friend, right? _"Are you all right?" Peter asked bluntly.

Remus looked mildly surprised. "Fine."

_One-word answer. Not helpful._ "I mean, I think Sirius was a bit harsh on you today."

"Sirius is Sirius."

_Up to three words. An improvement, but we still need more._ "Still, he did accuse you of hexing Harry to get him to say your name. That's a serious--"

"He said that?"

_Whoops. You didn't know that, did you?_ "I'm sorry--"

"Don't be sorry. I'm sure he said it, but he says things like that. He doesn't mean them. We both know that."

"It doesn't make the situation any more pleasant for you if he doesn't mean them. No one can expect you to enjoy seeing your friend whom you hardly ever see and having him act like he'd rather you weren't there."

Remus sighed deeply. _Jackpot. Score one for Wormtail._ "No, I don't enjoy it, but what can I do? It's for the best, anyway. I don't want him to be threatened for being my friend. Nor do I want you threatened for being my friend. And I'd rather keep my mouth shut and have him suspect Death Eaters are talking to me than open my mouth and prove it."

Peter nodded solemnly. "I'm not worried about being threatened over you." _See to it that you don't figure out why, please._ "So if you ever want to talk about it, owl me or something." _And no one else but me._

Remus thanked him.

Remus would not be a problem.

_I'm sorry, Moony. But when the Dark Lord takes over, I'll do my best to make it up to you. I promise_


	5. Hunter's Moon

**October 13, 1981: Hunter's Moon**

Sirius had been protective of Harry since the day of his birth, but his desire to shield his godson from all harm increased tenfold during the months immediately following his first birthday. On the first of August, Dumbledore had appeared in James' fire and informed him that he had received some disturbing news earlier in the week. He had not wanted to break the news to James and Lily while they were celebrating Harry's birthday; in fact, he did not want to break the news to them over the connection. James had called Sirius straight away, and though Sirius had just finished working a double-shift-- which was now a typical shift-- he had Apparated to the Potters' house to watch Harry while they visited Dumbledore.

James and Lily had returned grim-faced and bearing the news that Voldemort had at last become so infuriated by James' well-publicized actions on behalf of Light Magic that he had mentioned the family during several of his most recent meetings. Dumbledore had encouraged Lily and James to take precautions over and above those usually taken by witches and wizards living in such troubled times.

Obediently, the Potters had added extra wards to their home and began to live almost as if imprisoned. James and Lily, who were completely absorbed in one another, did not especially mind the added restrictions placed on their behavior. More important were the mountains of paperwork through which they waded. Sirius, as James' longtime best friend, had already been declared Harry's godfather in the honorary sense. Now legal work was adjusted to make Sirius Harry's official next-of-kin. Peter was written in as second-of-kin, and James hissed under his breath that this was the first time in his life that he had cared about Remus' lycanthropic nature. No judge would ever allow custody of a small child to revert to a registered werewolf, and Lily had no surviving friends whom she felt she could ask to step in as potential guardians for Harry.

A few months had passed as if almost nothing had changed. And then, on the day of the October full moon, Dumbledore had asked to see James and Lily again. He had not needed to tell them the reason. As soon as they saw him, they knew. Voldemort had made plans to kill them, and, as all the world knew, no one had ever survived once Voldemort had decided to murder them.

Lily had been called to the Ministry for an emergency, and James, frantic and not wanting to be alone, had once again called Sirius to his side. "You call, I come," Sirius declared with forced levity upon arriving.

"It's not as if it's a surprise," James began nervously without even acknowledging Sirius' greeting. "We've known for over a year that someone close to Dumbledore has been passing information. We knew that if one of us ended up on the killing list, we wouldn't have a chance."

"You have more than a chance, James!" Sirius interrupted restlessly. "We've never gone with the trend before, and we won't now. You aren't alone in this. I will _die_ before I let _anything_ happen to you or Lily or Harry!"

"If Voldemort can be defeated by sheer force of will, I guess I have nothing to worry about," said James, forcing a chuckle of his own.

"We've never lost yet, and I don't intend to start now."

James nodded, and gulped, and seemed to settle down infinitesimally. "I'm so glad you're here."

Sirius was slightly embarrassed at the outward display of affection. "We'll get through this," he repeated.

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, right?"

Sirius winced. "We might want to cut that down a bit."

"What?" The look of confusion that crossed James' face was almost laughable.

"We don't know where the information is leaking," Sirius explained almost hesitantly. James' life was in danger, and nothing else was important. Sirius could not afford to give Remus the benefit of the doubt when it came to his recent conspicuous absences.

"It's not from any of us!"

Sirius paced the length of the room, looking anxious. "Think about it," he said. "Remus is a werewolf. A naturally Dark creature, not to sound prejudiced."

"Which you do," snarled James, who was rapidly growing angry.

Sirius ignored the interruption. "Fine." He held up his hand and began to tick off points on his fingers. "But the fact remains that Remus will always have trouble finding paid work because of what he is. The fact remains the Voldemort would like a werewolf or two in his ranks. The fact remains that Remus was top of our class-- one of the best classes that ever got through Hogwarts-- I mean, we're _legendary_-- in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And if you can defend them, you can _do_ them. _I'd_ recruit Remus if I were going to build a Dark Army. He'd be the first one I'd recruit."

"Hey!" injected James, trying to sound humorous and insulted although he was almost in tears and they both knew it.

Sirius shook his head. "You're a family man. I don't want someone with a wife and a baby in my army. I want Remus, who's got hardly any connections to the Light Magical world because the Light Magical world won't have him. And I can hardly blame him. He's got nothing. If you were Remus, wouldn't you be working for Voldemort?"

"_NO!_ If I were Remus, I would know how much my friend James cared for me and how he was willing to die for me, and I wouldn't think I had nothing! I wouldn't sell my friend and his wife and his one-year-old child to Voldemort!"

"YOU CAN'T AFORD TO LOOK AT THE WORLD THROUGH ROSE-COLORED GLASSES RIGHT NOW, JAMES!" Sirius screamed. "YOU HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THIS!"

"NO, I DON'T! I WON'T, AND I CAN'T! I CAN'T THINK THAT ONE OF MY FRIENDS WOULD JUST KILL ME, I CAN'T, SIRIUS!" And the tears at last spilled down James' cheeks. He removed his glasses and swiped at his eyes in annoyance. "I WON'T THINK THAT!" He turned his back to Sirius. "I CAN'T HANDLE IT. YOU'RE SO SMART, YOU HANDLE IT!"

Sirius briefly stood in shock. He had not seen James cry since his parents' deaths. This brought the total number of incidents involving tears to two in a full lifetime of friendship. Then he crossed the room to put his hand on James' shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You're crackers," said James, still trying to suppress the tremors that racked his thin frame. "Remus would never do that."

"No," Sirius agreed. _Yes, James. I'll handle it. Take whatever peace of mind you can from my lying._ "Remus would never do that."

"No."

"Of course not." Sirius paused uncomfortably. "Do you want me to come with you to see Dumbledore?"

James shook his head. "Lily's coming. She'll be here in a minute."

"Less than a minute, actually," came Lily's voice from the front of the house. "Ready, James?"

"Ready. Wait, the cloak is still upstairs. Accio!" The cloak and Lily entered the room at the same time. The cloak flew straight into James' hand, but Lily stopped and stared at her husband.

"James? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Lily raised an eyebrow in disbelief but did not force the situation right away. James decided to elaborate of his own accord. "Sirius was just indulging in a paranoid flight of fancy."

"Really, Sirius?" asked Lily.

Sirius wondered what he could say to that. _It isn't paranoia if it's true_ would have upset James again, and _only the paranoid survive_ would be in bad taste just now. "If that's what James says," he finally said aloud.

"And it is!" James declared. "Want to know what he said, Lily? It's worth a laugh." He forged on without waiting for an answer. "He said he thinks Remus is the sellout. Remus!"

Lily favored Sirius with a very dirty look. "Have you been sleeping enough lately?" she asked her friend. "Sometimes people suffering from sleep deprivation think strange things."

"I sleep as much as anyone else does."

"Which is not at all," completed Lily. "Point proven. Do you want to stay here for a while instead of going back to work? Owl Frank and tell him that you can't work extra hours today because you have to baby-sit your godson?"

"I thought you were taking him with you."

"We were, but we don't need to. It might be better for all concerned if you and he stayed here and took a nap together."

"I can't take time off like that."

"It's not time off. It's failure to work overtime. I know everyone has been working all hours, but you still deserve a break. And once we go into hiding, who knows how long it will be before you see Harry again?"

This last bit of blatant emotional manipulation had its intended effect on Sirius. He nodded. "I'll watch Harry and owl Frank."

"Thank you," said Lily with a charming smile. "Come on, James." She drew him to her gently, and they walked to the door together. "Oh, Sirius," Lily called over her shoulder. "Not only is Remus too ethical and too compassionate and too loving to turn Dark, he's much too smart. He knows what would happen if Voldemort wins at least as well as the rest of us do."

"Goodbye, Lily!" Sirius answered, not caring that he sounded slightly rude. When he had watched Lily and James Apparate away, he grabbed James' owl and sent Frank a note stating that he would be unable to work extra hours until the next day. He then stormed into the room where Harry was contentedly seated in his playpen with a small fraction of his almost embarrassing collection of toys.

Sirius scooped Harry up. "Paff-fooh!" Harry cried gleefully, and Sirius' heart melted.

"Hi, Harry. I seem to have argued you out of a trip to Hogwarts. Are you upset with me?" Harry did not look in the least upset. "Thanks," said Sirius with some relief as he walked the baby back into the main room of the house. "It's good to see that you're more reasonable than your stupid, bloody git of a father." Sirius had kept his tone light and conversational, and he knew that it would be years before Harry mastered enough of the English language to know when his father, or anyone else, was being insulted. Nonetheless, he felt the need to apologize. "I don't mean it the way it sounds. I love your father-- I'd never tell him, but I do. Bastard probably knows, anyway. He's been my best friend since we could talk. It's like we're brothers. As if that git and I could ever be related--" he broke off and cocked his head at Harry, who looked as if he was listening intently. "Brotherly love. It's a rare and beautiful thing, you know." A ghost of a smile flickered across his handsome features.

Suddenly realizing that he was nearly as tired as Lily had claimed, Sirius decided that it would be a good idea to sit down, and lowered himself to the floor. Harry toddled a few steps to a ball which had been lying abandoned before a chair. He rolled it unsteadily toward Sirius. "Shall we play before we nap?" He reached over to guide Harry into a steadier position and then rolled the ball back toward his godson. "Your mother suggested that we take a nap, you know. Were you listening? I think it was me she was ordering about more than you, though. She thinks I put myself in too much danger and don't take good enough care of myself." He sighed deeply. "But she's the one in danger. She and you and your father. Now, don't worry-- I've told you before that I'd never let anything happen to you. And I wouldn't."

_Not if I can help it. Oh, who is Harry going to repeat this to?_ _May as well be honest._ "Not if I can help it. Sometimes I'm so afraid that I can't help it. We . . . we aren't doing so well in this war, Harry. We aren't winning. Every so often we capture or kill a few Death Eaters, but that's pittance compared to what they're doing to us. And it's something we've all learned to live with. We're careful. We don't talk to people we don't know or go somewhere unfamiliar without someone we trust. We know all the right things to say when someone else we know-- someone who might have been a friend if making friends was a safe thing to do-- loses a parent, or a fiancé, or a brother. It happens almost every day. It's happened almost every day since we were in school.

"And we deal with it. But if it… if it was James… I'd just lose it if it was your father, Harry." Tears were burning at the back of Sirius' eyes, but he ignored them. He was too worn to cry, even if he had wanted to, which he did not. It was different for James. James was the one in danger of not seeing his assorted wedding anniversaries, of not seeing his son grow to adulthood. "I don't remember a time when he wasn't there. And I have no desire to experience that. I can't even imagine that. This makes everything else seem trivial. I have no right to be tired, or lonely . . . does it scare you that you're more mature than your godfather?

"I'm so scared. Just scared. There's no other way to think about it. I don't know what to do." He rolled the ball back to Harry gently and traced its short trajectory with his eyes. "I don't know what to do, so I'm talking to you." He smiled an odd smile that was not at all like the open expressions his face usually wore. "Thank you for listening." He reached over to touch Harry's face so that the baby was looking at him. "I want you to remember this. I promise that no matter what happens, when you grow up, you can always come talk to me. Always. About anything. Even if-- _especially_ if all you need to do is talk. Anytime. Anywhere. As long as and as often as you want."

Sirius had just finished his promise (he was slightly chagrined to note that Harry gave no sign of understanding him and made a mental note to repeat himself when Harry had learned more than five words) when an owl arrived at the window and hooted indignantly upon finding said window protected by dozens of spells.

Sirius jumped up warily. Only an exceptionally smart owl could get so near the Potters' house, and no one was likely to send an owl to a family so high on Voldemort's hit list as the Potters without good reason. Cautiously, keeping himself in a dueling stance, he removed the spells one by one and pulled the letter inside without the owl, which screeched in protest.

_Sirius-- _

_Come outside. I need to speak to you for a moment._

_--Frank_

Sirius blinked, and rolled his eyes at himself as he realized that the owl was James' own, returning from messaging Frank. It must not have made any other deliveries since James and Lily had added the new spells. He allowed the extremely annoyed owl entrance and replaced the spells on the window before picking up Harry and casting a magnifying charm on the front door. He could see Frank standing in the street out of the range of the powerful wards that surrounded the house. Frank was non-threatening enough, Sirius assumed, especially because he was holding his own young son in his arms. Neville was Frank's pride and joy. The auror never went a day without discussing his son and lamenting the fact that they spent so little time together. Frank would never have brought Neville outside if he was not certain that the area was completely safe, at least for the moment.

"Want to come say hello to Neville?" Sirius asked Harry.

Harry did not protest, and Sirius took that as a 'yes.' He carried Harry outside and went to meet Frank. "Hello, Frank!" he called out. "Why didn't the all-mighty auror just take the wards down and come to the door?"

"Because if I've taught you a damn thing, you'd panic if someone knocked on the door unexpectedly. Besides, I hate to destroy another wizard's work, and I understand that these wards were quite the committee effort."

Sirius nodded and turned his attention to Harry. "Say 'hi' to Neville," he suggested. He took Harry's arm in his hand and helped his godson to wave. Frank, smiling slightly, did the same with his own son.

"You're going to be roommates at Hogwarts one day. You'd best make friends now," Frank informed Neville, who, with his round face and fine hair, was nearly as endearing as Harry.

"Neville's going to be a Gryffindor, too?" asked Sirius teasingly.

Frank nodded. "Runs in the family. I just hope he doesn't have too much reason to display his bravery." Sirius knew exactly how Frank felt.

Harry, meanwhile, extended a curious arm toward the other baby, and Neville followed suit so that their fingers just brushed. Frank tore his eyes from the sight with the look of longing his face always wore when he thought of his son. "I didn't come here just so Neville could make friends, unfortunately."

"What happened?" asked Sirius with building dread.

"You can have the time you asked for today, but tomorrow you have to do my job for a few hours. I wanted to give you the instructions in person."

Sirius knew better than to ask Frank why he would be absent from his regular duties if Frank did not volunteer the information. Instead, he listened to the directions in silence and carefully committed them to memory. Frank waited for Sirius and Harry to return to the house before vanishing.

"Your nap has been delayed long enough," Sirius told Harry firmly. "And I will apparently be personally responsible for who knows how many lives tomorrow. And I want to check on Moony tonight, invited or not. So, do you want to stay here with me or go back to your crib? Here? Good. That's what I was thinking, too." He snapped one of his favorite spells at the couch to transfigure it into a bed and lay down, resting Harry carefully on his chest. Harry squirmed. "Time to go to sleep," Sirius informed him, and was startled to hear his words slurring. He was aware of Harry's warm weight settling against him before he lost consciousness altogether.

Sirius was shaken awake several hours later by James. James still looked worn and stressed, but he was forcing a smile. "You look so _sweet_ together," he said, his voice tinged with playful sarcasm. "This is heartwarming, this is. I hope you remember how to transfigure that back."

Sirius meant to make a snide reply, but instead he yawned. As awareness reasserted itself, a heavy, frightened feeling began to constrict his chest. He quickly handed Harry to James, as if the baby himself, not the knowledge that the baby's family was in grave danger, was the cause of his discomfort. "How did it go?"

James' face tightened further, if such a thing were possible. "Dumbledore's information comes from his most useful spy. Voldemort definitely wants me dead. He might back off of Lily if she distanced herself from me, because her work isn't as close to the front lines as mine, but of course she wouldn't hear of doing that. Dumbledore just mentioned it, didn't even suggest it, because he knew how she'd be." James visibly made an effort to steady himself, and Sirius took this opportunity to return the couch to its natural form. "Dumbledore says our best chance is a Fidelius Charm. You know what that is?"

"Magical concealment of a secret inside a living soul."

"Ten to Gryffindor. Yes, that's right. Dumbledore offered to do it."

Sirius' eyes widened. An offer like that from the most powerful wizard in the world was not a thing to be taken lightly. "You'll be safe, then. Dumbledore would never tell Voldemort where you were."

James shook his head. "I don't know how to say this. I told him no."

"_What_? Are you mad?"

"No. Not mad. It's what we were talking about before Lily and I left." James gestured behind himself, and only then did Sirius notice that Lily had entered the room as well. "It's always been you, for my entire life, Sirius. I know he's the greatest wizard of our time, but I'd feel much safer if you were the one to cast the charm. Will you?" An intense vulnerability entered James' face, and Sirius knew that he could only give one answer.

"If it's what you want, you know I will, Prongs. I'll go into hiding myself, and I'll die before I do anything that would hurt you or Lily or Harry."

James relaxed visibly, and even managed a smile that hit his eyes. "Brilliant. I told Dumbledore you would. I told him you'd do all that."

"But he still isn't in favor of the idea."

James glanced at Lily. "No, he's not," Lily answered. "He volunteered to be the Secret-Keeper after James said he wanted you."

"But he just hasn't gotten past that thing with Remus and Snape!" James broke in. "That must be it. It was a one-time thing and years ago, but Dumbledore has a long memory. I insisted, though. You're the one I trust with Lily and Harry."

"And you're the one I trust with James," added Lily softly. James put the arm that was not holding his son around his wife.

"Are you certain, Lily?" asked Sirius with as much detachment as he could muster, which was not much. "Before you left, you were questioning my judgment, and you may have been right." Sirius was inwardly annoyed with himself for almost hoping that Lily would change her mind. He did not want the responsibility of this picture-perfect family's lives in his hands. Nor did he want it in anyone else's hands. He simply wanted James, Lily, and Harry to be safe.

Lily's voice was fraught with conviction. "I may not think every idea you've ever had has been a good one, but I know you would do anything to keep James from getting hurt. I know he'd do the same for you. It's one of the things I've always loved about him-- how devoted he is to you. And," she paused, glancing warily at James, "I think that Dumbledore's concerns are groundless. You know that someone's been passing information since the Rally of Light last year."

"Yes," agreed Sirius.

"Someone almost interrupted Harry's birthday party. There happened to be Hit Wizards in the area so we didn't know for a few days. And when James came to see me at the Ministry the other day-- there was another incident."

"Incident?"

"We were very glad for our dueling lessons," said James dryly.

"This happened when?"

"Two days ago."

"And you're telling me when?"

"We're telling you now. We didn't want you to worry, Padfoot. I know how I feel every time you're in the middle of some takedown, and I wanted to put that off for you."

Before Sirius could protest, Lily took up from her husband. "The point is, someone has been giving the Death Eaters very specific information about James and me. Dumbledore doesn't know if it's the same person who's been passing pieces of Ministry information for a year or not, but he does know that it's someone close to us. That's why he doubts you. And that's why we want you."

"We know it's a lot to ask, and you're allowed to change your mind and say 'no'--" James began.

Any other arguments Sirius might have made rapidly dispersed. _James would to the same for me._ _How I feel about this doesn't matter. It's how James and Lily feel that does. _"Of course I'll do it. I'd be honored to do it," he repeated. "But I still think you should take Dumbledore up--"

James shook his head in interruption. "No," he said simply.

"Right, then. How soon does this have to happen?"

"Ten days, two weeks, something along those lines. We have to have time to choose our hiding place, and get ready to move there. Lily has to wrap up her job except for remote work. She can't work in the Ministry offices anymore. It isn't safe. And you have to . . ." James trailed off.

"I have to quit active duty and get ready to hide myself." James nodded stiffly. "It's really all right, Prongs. It's going to be all right," Sirius said in a near-whisper.

"Thanks," said James in a similar tone. He tightened his grips on Lily and Harry. Sirius decided that he had best leave the family alone for the moment.

"You know how to find me when you're ready to talk about details."

"Are you leaving?"

Sirius nodded. "Yes. I want to check on Moony. And I want to make certain I'm ready for work tomorrow. Frank won't be there."

Lily opened her mouth as if to say something, but shut it quickly. Sirius smiled, suspecting that he could guess what she was about to say. "I'll be nice to Remus."

"Good," she said, and detached herself from James in order to hug Sirius. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

"You're more than welcome," he whispered back.

"You do know that it isn't Remus?"

"Are you saying it's Peter?"

"I'm not saying it's anyone."

_No wonder they got married_, thought Sirius as he released Lily, spared a final glance for James, and headed outside the spells to Disapparate. _They think the same way._

He realized that he had been asleep for longer than he had thought, and that it was nearly time for the moon to rise, so he Disapparated directly to Remus' flat.

"It's me, Moony!" he yelled as soon as he arrived.

"Sirius?" Remus bounded into view, looking half-sick and entirely anxious. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

"Within ten minutes you aren't going to be able to see me, at least not in this form."

Sirius forced his face to mold itself into a smile. "Luckily, I can change my form as well." _And I hope you remember why that is, you traitorous--_

"I know," Remus said, and he did look slightly pained, so Sirius counted himself victorious. "You want to come with me tonight, then?"

"Yes. Where are you going?"

"The manor. Same as always."

"_Always?"_ queried Sirius. "What about six months ago?"

Remus had always hidden his emotions well, and it was only because of a decade of friendship that Sirius was able to see the mix of betrayal, worry, annoyance, offense, fear, and confusion in the werewolf. "Have you been spying on me?" he asked lightly.

"I was checking on you. As I am doing tonight."

"I'm really quite capable of taking care of myself, Padfoot."

"I've heard that before, and I must say it's not always been true--"

"Why are you really here?" Remus did not raise his voice. He almost never raised his voice. No, Remus had to be the perfect, refined gentleman that no one would ever suspect of being a bloodthirsty monster with no conscience.

By contrast, Sirius' already-strained temper began to rise. "I wanted to see you," he snarled.

"You've seen me. Unfortunately, I have to leave now." Remus Disapparated with a pop. Sirius briefly considered searching his friend's flat, but decided that Remus was far too clever to leave any useful information lying around. Sirius suspected that Death Eaters, like aurors, seldom put anything in writing.

And so, Sirius followed Remus. As promised, Remus was inside the shed on the manor's grounds. The noises of the transformation quickly reached Sirius' ears. A moan, a shriek, a howl.

_He always tries so hard not to scream_, Sirius recalled regretfully. _It's awful, lycanthropy, and it's worse the way most of the world treats people like Remus_. He laughed at himself. _As if there is anyone else like Remus. He's one of a kind, as much as James is, as much as Peter is. I remember promising to do anything to make him feel better. I never thought that would include letting him kill James. And it doesn't. _

_But I get attached. I'm attached to Moony forever. _

Sirius had always liked to view situations in terms of black and white, but it was difficult to hate someone who was in so much pain for reasons entirely beyond his control-- particularly because that someone had never given a sign that he was anything but devoted to Sirius, and, more importantly, to Lily, Harry, Peter, and James.

A mournful howl split the air. Sirius rolled his eyes skyward and completed his own swift, painless transformation before raising a paw to the door and unfastening its latch.

The wolf bounded past him, still howling furiously, and Padfoot was forced to use all of his energy to catch up. The wolf, he knew, was prone to be in a sour mood if Remus was in a sour mood. _And if Remus wasn't in a bad mood already, I've certainly put him in one. So I can't very well let him destroy the nearest town._

_Not that I would, anyway._

_No matter which form you take, Moony._

Padfoot gathered himself into a powerful leap and jumped atop Moony, dragging him to the ground. Moony, with a growl of rage, rolled out from under his attacker.

_Perhaps I shouldn't have let him out without Prongs here to help. Of course, if Moony did get caught, the Ministry would take care of him faster than you can say Avada Kedavra-- WHAT AM I THINKING?_

Furious with himself, Padfoot bounded forward and leapt before Moony. He lowered himself to the ground and used his nose to give Moony a submissive nudge beneath the chin. Moony stopped, confused, and gave Padfoot an appraising look. Padfoot did his best to look harmless, a worthy opponent, and Sirius-like all at once. He barked, and a bit of understanding came into Moony's eyes. Remus was asserting himself.

_Good, Remus._

Then the wolf pounced, but he was not trying to hurt Padfoot. Werewolves were only a danger to people, not to animals; nonetheless, they had long, sharp claws and powerful jaws. A game to a wolf was deadly business to one who was not careful. Thus, Padfoot was ready for the pounce. He crouched low, and when he felt the wolf's nails and paws, he wrenched himself up and shook the wolf from his back.

_Take that! I'll throw you off of James' trail just as easily._

Moony looked angry. Like Padfoot, he was now spoiling for a fight. He lunged forward, and Padfoot sidestepped. They circled one another warily.

_You won't get the better of me. You won't! You can't have James, and you can't have Light Magic, and no matter how bad things look, I will resist you until I lie choking on my own blood._

As if reading the dog's thoughts, Moony lunged for his rival's throat. For a fraction of a second, he held on.

_How dare you? How dare you, Moony! I was your friend! We were all your friends! How could you mean everything to me and I mean nothing to you? How dare you!_

He shook the wolf off, and they rose onto hind legs, snapping at each other's throats, clawing at each other's hackles.

_I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you! You have no right to do this. No right and no reason. We promised to protect teach other. Fight to the death side-by-side. How could you? I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you! Except that I don't, even though you have NO RIGHT!_

They fell to the ground and rolled over and over with neither getting the upper hand in the wrestling match.

_How could you? To James? To Lily? To Harry? He's a baby, Moony, just a year old! Have you forgotten holding him on the day he was born? Have you forgotten him saying your name on his first birthday? He's a baby! Give him a chance to live! Just a chance! Him and Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones and all those children who Peter says are locked up in safehouses and don't know what the sun looks like. _

The wolf's powerful hind legs battered the dog.

_Why are you hurting me? Why? I'd never hurt you like this._

The dog rolled the wolf over and gave him a taste of his own medicine.

_I hate you._

They rolled over again.

_Why?_

They reached the edge of an embankment and began to scramble for footing.

_When did things get to be so complicated?_

Footing regained, the battle began anew.

_There's nothing quite so exhilarating as battling a werewolf. Is that why I thought I liked you? Because being a dangerous, bloodthirsty, Dark creature is cool?_

Padfoot snapped at Moony's throat and just missed grabbing hold.

_That's not it. We were friends before. We were friends after. From the first and to the last, right? It was a good plan. Why did you change it? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!_

With every snarl, Padfoot said to Moony what Sirius could not say to Remus. The battle became less vicious as the night wore on, but it never completely stopped until a whimper escaped Moony in mid-tangle. Confused, the wolf looked up at the moon, which was setting. Padfoot, registering the meaning of this event on a more intellectual level than Moony could, attempted to nudge the wolf back toward the shed. Had he been paying more attention, he would have begun subtly guiding Moony in the correct direction long ago. Luckily, though, the wolf was both mentally confused and physically drained and was willing to allow the great dog to choose his direction.

Moony began to whine and shudder almost before they entered the shed. He collapsed to the floor as Padfoot maneuvered the door shut. By the time Padfoot turned around, the transformation was almost complete.

Sirius, too, resumed his human form.

"Remus? Can you hear me?"

"Yes," muttered Remus. He reached for his robes, and pulled them haphazardly over his head.

"Your wand, Mr. Moony."

"Thank you, Mr. Padfoot. Shall we?"

"We shall." Sirius reached forward as if to Apparate Remus, but Remus shrugged away.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Let me do it."

"No." And without further negotiation, Remus vanished. Sirius followed.

"Have I ever told you that you're stubborn?" he asked when Remus' flat spun into being around him.

"You mean today?" asked Remus weakly. He half-crawled, half-staggered to a chair. This time, Sirius met no resistance when he grabbed his friend's shaking form and helped him settle down.

"You're going to splinch yourself one of these days," Sirius ranted. "Why do you insist on doing that? Because you can? We all know you can! There are perfectly respectable, qualified wizards out there who can't Apparate at all, let alone when they've just been through an inconceivably brutal, exhausting night. Next time, I'm not giving your wand back! Are you hurt?"

"Not very," said Remus bemusedly. Sirius quickly inspected him with his eyes. Remus did not seem to be overly cut or bruised; Padfoot had distracted the wolf from himself that night. Remus looked nothing more than exhausted by the transformation itself.

"Let's get you into bed, then." Remus nodded, and Sirius wrapped an arm securely around his friend to walk him into the bedroom and deposit him on the bed. "All right?" he asked when Remus had been made, to Sirius' eye, sufficiently comfortable. It was nice, Sirius mused, to deal with a concrete, solvable problem. Remus was sore and tired, so Sirius would see that he would get rest. But James' problems… James' problems…

"Thanks, Padfoot," said Remus with a decided rasp in his voice.

"You're welcome. Always," Sirius answered, temporarily tearing himself out of his thoughts.

Remus tried in vain to swallow a yawn. "You must be tired too, and you have work today, don't you? You shouldn't have stayed up all night."

Something inside of Sirius snapped at the concern in Remus' voice. "I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway," he admitted.

Remus forced his eyes open further. "What happened?" he asked. Terror tinged his exhausted expression.

Knowing that he ought to brush Remus' inquiry off, Sirius nonetheless sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. _James and Lily will tell him anyway,_ he told himself to justify his weakness. "Voldemort is after James and Lily."

Remus gasped. "They're on the list?"

"Even Harry is," said Sirius, relieved to be expressing his concerns to someone who was old enough to understand them.

"No one… no one has ever…"

"Dumbledore thinks they still have a chance. A Fidelius Charm."

Remus, being Remus, did not need even a second to recall the intricacies of the charm. "Are you the Secret-Keeper?"

Sirius nodded. "Dumbledore offered to do it, but they insisted on using me."

"Naturally."

"_Naturally?"_ repeated Sirius in shock.

"I'd do the same thing if I were James," said Remus matter-of-factly.

"Then you're mad, too. The most powerful wizard in the world is offering to protect them personally and they're turning him down!"

"You'd do anything to protect them, wouldn't you? Go into hiding, face down a dragon, take whatever curses they throw at you?"

"Of course!" exclaimed Sirius, outraged.

"So?" Remus' eyes threatened to drift closed as if he had proved his point.

"So, _what_?"

"So, you're the best chance they have. It's simple, Padfoot."

"It isn't simple at all," Sirius grumbled, shifting his position on the bed, which was beginning to feel quite comfortable. "Someone is passing information about them. They've had two near misses already."

Remus suppressed a shudder. "We've known about the spy for almost a year, but… James and Lily…"

"It's someone very close. So we're doing this as soon as we can get our affairs in order. James has already given the Invisibility Cloak to Dumbledore to make sure that Harry gets it. It's funny what people focus on sometimes-- he refuses to think about Harry growing up without a father, but he'll ramble for hours about how awful it would be if Harry couldn't nick food from the kitchens or sneak into Hogsmeade." He paused, and returned to his original subject. "This might be the last time I see you for a while."

Remus had already been serious, resigned, and as alert as a werewolf could be on the morning after the full moon. Nonetheless, he managed to become still more somber. "Take care of yourself, Sirius."

"I'll take care of them."

"I know _that_. Take care of yourself, too. If the worst happens, don't try to take on Voldemort all by yourself."

"_The worst will not happen!"_ Sirius answered furiously.

"I know. I know. But don't… let yourself become convinced that the worst has happened and act accordingly. I know that we haven't seen each other much lately, and I know I have no right to say this, but don't act as if you have nothing to lose…" Remus trailed off embarrassedly. "I suppose I'm not making much sense."

"We're both tired."

"Do you want to stay here until you go to work?"

Suddenly, Sirius wanted nothing more. He had become so emotionally dysfunctional that he was unable to sleep without a comforting presence nearby. And Remus, despite his suspicious behavior, was still a longtime friend and a great comfort. Sirius felt better about his role as Secret-Keeper for having talked to Remus, even though Remus was… he felt himself drifting off to sleep where he lay. "Yes," he muttered. "Goodnight," he added as a small joke.

"Goodnight," Remus answered. Sirius barely had time to charm his watch to wake him up in time for work when the world faded from around him.

He suddenly realized that he was late. He had meant to check on James, Lily, and Harry while Voldemort was known to be outside of Great Britain. Thoroughly annoyed with himself, he Apparated to the small town to which the Potter family had fled. When the world stopped spinning, he stared at a flat, grassy plain.

_That's where James' house is supposed to be_, he thought. _Did I make a mistake?_ He had never before made a mistake while Apparating.

"No mistake, Padfoot," James answered aloud.

_I know that sometimes it seems like friends can read one another's thoughts, but this is ridiculous._

"YOU are ridiculous, Padfoot. You bloody bastard!"

"James?" Sirius spun dumbly in a circle, wondering from where his friend's voice came. Had the house perhaps become invisible?

"Here!" James exclaimed. James sounded angry, but Sirius had done nothing wrong. He had kept the secret. He had kept James safe.

"If this is a joke, it isn't funny!"

James laughed a cold, piercing laugh, and Sirius shivered. He had always imagined that Voldemort's laugh would sound this way. "Step forward, Sirius. Forward." Sirius obeyed, and entered the field. "Keep coming."

Sirius stumbled over an uneven spot in the ground. Looking down, he saw a small white cross, long abandoned and overgrown with weeds. "James?"

"Right here!" Suddenly, powerful claws sprouted from the earth beneath the cross. They wrapped themselves around Sirius' ankles and sought to pull him down. Sirius hollered with pain and fright, and wrenched himself away from his attacker. His effort dragged up a form from below.

Sirius screamed again. The skeletal arms and legs were affixed to a naked, blood-drenched head and torso. It was James. "You killed me, Sirius," said James with deathly calm.

"J-- James, I would never betray you!"

"So you always say. You killed my wife! You killed my child!"

"I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!"

"YOU--" James suddenly broke off. The murderous tint that had so unnerved Sirius was replaced by something even more frightening: defeat. "It was my fault. I knew you. I never should have left Lily and Harry to your protection."

"It's not your fault, James. I didn't do it! I didn't give you up! I'd die first!"

James sighed as much as a decaying corpse could. "You never had any self-restraint. You'd say things and do things in fits of passion, and it was all well and good when we were still at Hogwarts and we were just making people laugh. But now… you tell me that Moony is a spy. You order me to forget about one of my best friends. And then you tell Moony what's going on just to make _yourself_ feel better. You're supposed to be _so_ clever. You tell him you're the Secret-Keeper, and he tells Voldemort, and Voldemort knows right where to find you and torture you. And you give me up!"

"No. No!" Sirius reached out to grasp James and shake him, make him understand that he was wrong, that he couldn't be dead, but James would not listen.

Sirius awoke hyperventilating. He twisted his head around to see Remus sleeping beside him on the bed.

_How could I? _

To his surprise, an answer occurred to him.

_I couldn't, if I don't._

_I'll tell everyone that I'm the Secret-Keeper, and Voldemort will come after me. But when I give in, I won't know where James is. _

_Who else can we trust?_

And it came to him.

_Peter_.

No one would ever suspect Peter. Even at Hogwarts, the allegedly brilliant professors had been unaware of the depths of Peter's intelligence and courage. They had thought him a tagalong, someone whom Sirius and James kept about to stroke their egos. _Because we're just that shallow._ Voldemort would never guess.

Sirius checked his watch and found that the alarm was mere seconds from sounding. It was time for work. As he turned to leave, he shot a look of loathing at Remus.

_If I hadn't told him, I would be able to protect James myself._

He was unable to maintain his hatred. Remus looked harmless enough while he was deep in sleep.

_This is why Peter should do it. I'm too sentimental. Too attached._

He Disapparated.

**October 31, 1981**

With a feeling of nausea more painful than any in his previous experience, Peter obeyed the burning in his arm and Apparated to the side of the Dark Lord. He had never before been alone in a room with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he had no desire to be so. Unfortunately, his desires did not matter.

"It is Halloween night, Wormtail," a voice informed him from the shadows.

Peter fell to his knees. "Yes, My Lord."

"It is time. Time for you to tell all you know."

Peter gulped. He was still weak from the meeting which had been held four days earlier. For the first time, the Death Eaters had not begun by asking him questions in a deceptively friendly way. Instead, they had repeatedly subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse and had branded him with the Dark Mark. He remembered little of that meeting but the haze of pain which had left him unable to function for days on end. He had been left with only the Dark Lord's brand and a sneaking suspicion that he had admitted to being the Potters' Secret-Keeper.

The Dark Lord, it seemed, had a flare for the dramatic and preferred to put off murdering James, Lily, and Harry until Halloween. He had not even asked Peter where to go. Thus, Peter had been forced to wait alone in his flat, too weak to move or do anything but berate himself for his weakness and berate Sirius for his foolishness.

Sirius had, for no apparent reason, met Peter after work one day. He had bought Peter several drinks at the nearest pub and had then announced that they were going to see James and Lily. Peter had had many years' experience being Sirius' friend, and he knew that when Sirius chose to pursue something with a mysterious single-mindedness, it was best to leave off asking questions and go along for the ride.

James and Lily obviously did not expect Sirius and Peter's arrival, but the two were nonetheless invited inside.

"James," declared Sirius, "I've had an idea."

James smiled wanly. Recent weeks had prematurely aged him, and he no longer had the energy to respond to Sirius' bright, jaunty remarks with enthusiastic glee. "Yes, Padfoot?"

"I was speaking to Remus on the last full moon and I mentioned your . . . situation."

James nodded. "We said goodbye to him this morning." Lily's pain-filled eyes met James'.

"You'll see him again," said Sirius firmly. "It might be a while, but _you'll see him again." _Lily and James voiced their agreement. They had never been able to bear thinking about the worst case scenario, although they had prepared for it. "As I was saying," Sirius continued, "When I spoke to Remus, he immediately asked if I was your Secret-Keeper. I was the obvious choice."

"Obvious for a reason," said James.

Almost at the same second, Lily said "Of course it's obvious to _Remus_."

Sirius waved them both off. "This is a war. We can't afford to be obvious, especially with a spy in our midst. That's why I'm suggesting that we tell everyone up to and including Dumbledore that I'm the Secret-Keeper but that you actually cast the spell with Peter." He smiled winningly.

A surge of hatred roared through Peter. Sirius had brought him along to make it more difficult for Lily and James to refuse his suggestion. The last thing in the world that Peter wanted to do was perform the Fidelius Charm with Lily and James. To do so would be to sign their death warrants. _I'm working to save them by joining forces with the winning side-- but they have to survive the war for my work to be of any use to them. Damn you, Sirius! You could have warned me! You could have asked!_

"I don't know about this, Sirius," said Lily, and Peter inwardly began to sing the former Head Girl's praises. "It's not that I don't trust Peter," she rushed on. "It's that, well, your last bright idea was that Remus was the spy."

"This is a much better idea than that one," said Sirius.

"You have a lot of great ideas, Padfoot," put in James. "But you have to admit that sometimes it's hard to tell the great ones from the terrible ones."

"And this is Harry's life we're talking about!" exclaimed Lily vehemently.

"I would never suggest anything that I thought would hurt Harry!" protested Sirius. "This is the only way! This entirely eliminates the chance that your Secret-Keeper will speak, because no one will suspect you'd use Peter! You have to switch."

Sirius gazed steadily at James, and everyone in the room knew the exact moment that James gave in. Once James' decision was made, it was only a matter of time before Lily acquiesced.

It was less than a week before the Fidelius Charm was performed and Lily and James were hidden away in Godric's Hollow.

It was less than another week before the Dark Lord had Peter tortured and found out that his own servant possessed the knowledge he so craved.

And now, on Halloween, the Dark Lord was asking Peter to turn over three lives to him. "Tell me all you know, Wormtail," You-Know-Who repeated.

_Damn you, Sirius!_ "They're in Godric's Hollow."

The Dark Lord laughed coldly. "Apparate with me, Wormtail." Peter had no choice but to obey. Upon arriving in the neighborhood, Peter silently pointed at the house which concealed James, Lily, and Harry. "Transform." Peter followed his master's command once more. "Scamper inside at the first opportunity. Do not let yourself be seen."

And the Dark Lord sent forth a blast that nearly knocked the front door off of its hinges. Through the newly formed crack, Wormtail could see James and Lily rushing forward, wands drawn to cover one another. James was two steps ahead thanks to his long legs, and he positioned his body to shield Lily. The door rattled once more.

"LILY, TAKE HARRY AND GO! IT'S HIM! GO! RUN! I'LL HOLD HIM OFF!" James' words were filled with panic, but his movements were steady as he took up a dueling stance. Lily, after a final sideways glance at the husband she knew she would never see again in life, rushed from the room, stumbling a bit but determined to save her son at any cost.

At last, the Dark Lord succeeded in throwing the door open all the way. "Voldemort!" said James, trying to sound cocky and charming although he was clearly, at least to Wormtail's eyes, terrified. "Can I offer you a drink?"

There was a crackle and a flash of light. James sent forward a spell that would have left an entirely human man unconscious for days in the Dark Lord's direction, but it was deflected with ease. The Dark Lord loosed the cackling, shrieking, high-pitched laughed that always sounded just before he killed. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" he shouted.

The dark room briefly glowed green, and in that instant Wormtail saw his friend's silhouette tossed backwards like a rag doll. Before James' prone form had rolled over the back of the couch, the Dark Lord had rushed after Lily's receding form. Not wanting to be alone with James' corpse, Wormtail followed. _Damn you, Sirius! This is all your fault!_

Lily had pulled Harry into her arms and was attempting to escape his nursery. When the Dark Lord blocked her escape route, she did nothing but scream. "NOT HARRY, NOT HARRY, PLEASE NOT HARRY!"

While the Dark Lord allowed his followers to torture Muggles and Muggle-borns for sport, he had never engaged in the practice himself. He held so little respect for Muggle-born witches like Lily that he did not even feel the need to kill her. "STAND ASIDE, YOU SILLY GIRL! STAND ASIDE, NOW!" _Please, Lily, do as he says!_ Wormtail chanted urgently from his hiding place. _Live to see the new era, even without James. He's right-- you're only a girl-- you'll have more children!_

Lily was having none of it. Harry had been her first, last, and everything since the day of his birth. She shielded him as James had shielded her an instant before. "NOT HARRY, PLEASE NO, TAKE ME, KILL ME INSTEAD!" _He won't, Lily. There's no use in your dying, too! You're Muggle-born, Harry isn't, as far as You-Know-Who cares your opposition doesn't matter but Harry's does! _Lily did not acknowledge Wormtail's unheard pleading as she began to plead herself. "Not Harry! Please." Her voice grew quiet and mantra-like, but her determination was not to be questioned as she asked the impossible. "Have mercy. Have mercy. Have mercy. Have mer--"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

There was a second flash of green light, and Lily, her son still in her arms, slumped backwards against Harry's crib. She fell bonelessly; she was surely dead, and if rats could cry, Wormtail would have. He could not dwell on his lack of tear ducts, though, because there was a loud explosion followed by the caving in of the roof upon them. Mere wandlengths from Lily's still-warm body, Wormtail blissfully lost consciousness.

A scratching sound, combined with a bright beam of light, brought him back to his senses. "Lily," said a tear-choked voice that Wormtail could not place at once. The rubble around that rat's body shifted as her limp form was pulled from the wreckage. "Fittin' that you an' James went together . . . but . . ." the voice broke off in a noisy sob that was quickly joined by a thinner, more highly pitched wail. The louder sobs stopped abruptly, and large chunks of debris flew from above Wormtail as of their own volition. "Harry-- Harry! Bless me, you're alive!"

_Alive? Harry, alive? How can that be? Is that Hagrid? Where's the Dark Lord?_ One question after another flooded Wormtail's mind, and he wished that he could transform into a human with a greater capacity for complex analysis.

"What-- I have to speak to Dumbledore." Wormtail shifted just enough to see Hagrid's enormous form producing a small globe from his omnipresent moleskin coat. With a squeeze, the ball burst into flames, and when Hagrid tossed in a pinch of powder, Albus Dumbledore's voice echoed into the ruins.

"Hagrid? Are you there?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore, Sir. James an' Lily . . . they're dead, Sir."

Dumbledore sighed. "I didn't imagine they could survive, with so much Dark Magic centered on their house."

"But Professor . . . Harry . . . little Harry, he's alive!"

"ALIVE?" Dumbledore sounded as startled as Wormtail had ever heard him. He recovered quickly, however. "That may explain a great deal. For the past four hours, I've heard multiple reports of Dark Detectors shutting themselves off for the first time in eleven years. Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, Foe-Glasses. Lord Voldemort has vanished from my own Foe-Glass. Witches and wizards have been turning themselves in to the Ministry of Magic, claiming to have been freed from the Imperius Curse."

"Sir-- are you-- are you sayin' You-Know-Who has gone?"

"It looks that way, Hagrid. He never was one to leave an enemy alive, even an infant. Is Harry entirely unharmed?"

"He's bleeding sumpin fierce from a cut on his forehead. That's all, Sir."

"The mark of a curse?"

"I expect so. Are you sayin' _Harry_ defeated You-Know-Who?"

"Something kept him from killing Harry, yes. Hagrid, I need you to listen to me. I need you to follow my instructions carefully. I need you to take Harry to… let me see, I have it in this file… yes, number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. That's where Harry's aunt and uncle live. It's one of the least magical areas in Britain, so you'd best wait until this evening to keep from being seen. You'll probably need to use Muggle transport. Keep Harry safe today. Don't speak to anyone for longer than you absolutely must. And do not_, under any circumstances_, give Harry to anyone else, even for a moment! Bring him to me."

"Yes, Sir."

"I'll see you this evening, Hagrid."

"Lookin' forward to it."

Hagrid had no sooner received his instructions than he was forced to put them into play. A familiar roar split the dawn air, and Wormtail, as a rat, was able to name the scent instantly. _Sirius Black._

Presently, Sirius came into his field of view. He looked almost vampiric. His skin was ghastly pale in contrast to his tousled, black hair, and he was shaking.

"Hagrid," he gasped painfully. "What-- are they--" His voice broke off, and tremors wracked his frame as if intent on knocking it to the ground.

Hagrid still cradled Harry in one arm, but his other enormous hand came to rest on Sirius' shoulder. Sirius leaned unthinkingly into the support. "They're dead, Sirius. Lily an' James are dead. There's nothin' you can do for 'em. But Harry, here, Harry's alive, an' You-Know-Who has gone. It's over."

_Over. Over. Over,_ thought Wormtail. _If Sirius finds me now, it will all be over. _

The wreckage surely marked the beginning of Sirius' search. Careful not to draw attention to himself, the rat extricated himself from the jumble of wood, bricks, and toys that penned him down. He crept through tiny tunnels of debris until he was able to leave the destroyed house.

_I have some time,_ he reassured himself. _Sirius will try to convince Hagrid to let him have Harry. _

When he was certain he could not be seen, he resumed his human form with a sigh of relief. He was a very short man, but his legs were still longer than those of a rat, and a wizard had the ability to Apparate.

_Best not to go to my flat. Sirius will look there. He knows me so well. There's nowhere I can hide. I'll have to . . . I'll have to confront him. I'll never be able to out-duel him. I'll never be able to convince anyone to protect me from him. Everyone knows him, everyone loves him, everyone thinks he was the noble one protecting James._

Peter felt a wild flicker of hope. _Everyone thinks he was the one protecting James! If… __**when**__ he finds me, it will look to everyone as if I was the one who tracked him down. There's no reason I should correct that assumption. It will certainly look that way when Sirius kills me. Wonder if he'll get Azkaban for that? It serves him right. He was the one who insisted that James change Secret-Keepers. He was the one who was gullible enough to stop trusting Moony. Damn Sirius! I tried to help them all, and now he's going to kill me! If only I could fake my own death._ He smiled hysterically. His plan was growing more far-fetched by the minute.

_I'm an unregistered Animagus! If I transform before he throws the curse… If I throw the curse myself, and make it look like it was him, and transform … no one will look for a rat. No one will believe anything he says. I'll give up Peter and just be Wormtail._

_Thank Merlin I'm a rat!_

_Damn Sirius, but bless Remus!_

Then he began to laugh. _That will never work. I'll just go to a city. I'll be hard to find amidst all those Muggles, and no matter how much of a temper Sirius is in, he'll not kill me in front of Muggles! That much magic in front of that many Muggles could get him imprisoned all by itself._

And Peter Apparated away.

All around him, even in the crowds of Muggles, he could hear chatter of the events of the night before.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard--"

"--Yes, their son, Harry--"

"Gone at last!"

In addition, owls flocked through the skies so thickly that the Muggles could hardly fail to notice. In fact, Peter could see that some of them _had_ noticed: they were pointing at the sky, scratching their heads, and looking at one another wonderingly.

Peter was not able to remain hidden in the crowd for long. To his sheer terror, he saw a black-robed figure storming toward him. Sirius had found him after all.

Having nothing to lose, he reverted to his original plan just as Sirius stepped forward to corner him against the wall of an office building. Some of the Muggles scattered into open doors or nearby streets, but other stood to watch.

"LILY AND JAMES, SIRIUS! HOW COULD YOU?" Peter shouted. He found that he was sobbing from confusion at that day's event and from fear at the murderous, empty look in Sirius' eyes. His sweating fingers gripped his wand behind his back.

Sirius had not expected that. He paused for a fraction of a second before he drew his wand, and that pause was all Peter needed. He pulled a knife from his belt and, quicker than quick, cut off his index finger. _Just to make sure they think I'm dead!_ So much adrenaline was rushing through his veins that he did not even feel the pain. "Avada Kedavra!" he whispered, pointing his wand at no one.

He had been given a few tips on performing Dark Magic during meetings with various of the Dark Lord's followers. Obviously, he had seen a great deal of Dark Magic performed. He had never, however, tried such a sophisticated curse for himself.

Often, when a young wizard tried a spell for the first time, the results were embarrassing or even dangerous. Such was the case this time. As Peter transformed, he noted in shock that the entire street had exploded. Muggles began to scream and cry.

Sirius began to laugh.

Wormtail, petrified, slipped into the sewer.

He ran for what seemed like miles to his tiny rat legs. Eventually, his paw began to throb with pain. His breath came rapidly, and he slowed, wishing for fresh air rather than the stench of the sewers.

Lily and James, dead.

Sirius, his mind possibly gone, soon to be imprisoned.

Muggles, dead?

Peter, dead. In his place, Wormtail.

He lay there shaking for a long time.


	6. Cold Moon

**November 1, 1981**

Remus stared uncomprehendingly at the other wizard. "What do you mean, this doesn't matter?" he asked. Dumbledore had sent him to this obscure pocket of a wizarding town in the hopes that he would be able to discern which of the locals had managed to remove a blanket hex that the followers of Lord Voldemort had cast upon the region. Such a wizard was a potentially valuable ally, and needed to be convinced not to hide his talent for fear of being placed on Lord Voldemort's infamous list.

"Just that!" the wizard said, beaming brilliantly. He gave Remus a spontaneous hug, which Remus, unaccustomed to touch but from a selected few, stiffly half-returned. "It doesn't matter! He's gone, he's gone, haven't you seen the papers? Heard the radio?"

"No," said Remus, feeling bewildered and not a little thick. _Or perhaps his mind is just gone… it happens to many who cross the Dark Lord._ "I've been traveling and looking for a wizard--"

The other man was fairly dancing about. "No wonder! You must celebrate! You must see!" He withdrew a scrap of paper, lately torn from the Daily Prophet, from his robes. "Keep it right next to my heart," he informed his companion. "You can read it for yourself, and then I won't have to explain." Then, in a loud voice, he explained nonetheless. "YOU-KNOW-WHO IS GONE! HE'S GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE FOR GOOD!"

Remus was suddenly glad that the man was still gripping his arm, because his knees felt weak. "How do you know?"

"IT'S IN THE PAPER! GONE FROM FOE-GLASSES! CURSES LIFTED! COME, HAVE A DRINK! CELEBRATE!"

_It could be a trick. He could be mad. I should contact Dumbledore. Or Peter. _Instinctively, Remus opened his mouth to refuse politely. "I don't think--"

A pretty witch somewhat older than Remus came running up to the pair. "Tristan! Come along to the Mulville! Everything's on us, today!"

"You see?" asked Tristan delightedly. "Come along, now! Hullo, Laura."

Remus hesitated in disbelief. "He's in shock, poor dear," interrupted Laura. "Come with us. You'll feel better, and then you'll get back to your friends and family." She smiled brilliantly. "I sent my son and daughter to Canada, where it was safer, and I'm going to see them tomorrow! Have you got friends in hiding?"

"He must," Tristan answered for Remus. "Says he's working for Albus Dumbledore."

"A great man, Dumbledore," said Laura reverently. And Remus felt himself pulled along to the Mulville by Tristan and Laura.

The aura inside the pub was raucous. Witches and wizards of all ages, even the tiniest children, were eating, drinking, and shouting with laughter. The din felt unreal after so many years of forced isolation. A radio was tuned to what must have been a news station, and short speeches by Dumbledore and various ministers of magic were being broadcast over and over again. Expensive Sneakoscopes sat upon tables and were still as still could be. Slowly, Remus began to suspect that what Tristan had told him was true. He drank what was handed to him, and after feeling its steadying effect forced his way closer to the radio and the stack of Daily Prophets.

The papers had been printed before the news of the defeat of Voldemort had been made official, and the speeches on the radio were most uninformative. No one seemed to be certain as to exactly what had passed.

_I have to speak to Peter_, Remus thought once more. Suddenly, he began to share in the joy of the people surrounding him. _Or-- if he truly is gone, I can speak to Sirius and James! They won't be in hiding._

No sooner had James' name made its way into Remus' conscious than he heard it spoken aloud. "That's what she said. Lily and James Potter, and their son, Harry." Remus clawed his way back through the throng to the source of the voice.

"Excuse me?" he asked the flush-faced man. "Did you mention the Potters a moment ago?"

"Aye," came the answer. "I just spoke to my sister through the fire. She says You-Know-Who attacked the Potters' house last night. The man and his wife are dead. Tragedy, that. They were so young." Despite his words, he continued to smile. "But their son, Harry-- he lived. And when You-Know-Who couldn't kill him, he just disappeared!"

Remus was able to accept horrid news much more quickly than happy news; he had had more practice. Instantly, his stomach lurched and tears pricked his eyes. Ignoring the call of his informant, he fled the building. As he Disapparated, not caring if he splinched himself, he heard the man's voice raised to a shout. "RAISE YOUR GLASSES TO HARRY POTTER-- THE BOY WHO LIVED!"

When Remus arrived reasonably near his flat, and found that he had regretfully managed not to splinch himself, he determined that the best course of action involved going to bed and staying there indefinitely.

_Lily and James are dead. And if they are, so is Sirius. Lily. James. Sirius. Lily. James. Sirius._ His mind spun like a top.

Upon entering his flat, Remus found three men already there. He was too tired and confused to so much as raise an eyebrow.

"Remus Lupin?" asked one man briskly.

"Yes," agreed Remus, noticing even in his befuddled state that the man and his companions were Hit Wizards. _Why_?

"You knew Sirius Black?"

_So he is dead. _"Yes," Remus repeated shakily.

"You knew Peter Pettigrew?"

_Peter, dead? How?_ "Y-- yes."

"You'll come with us."

The wizard nearest the fire tossed in a pinch of Floo Powder and stepped inside. "Ministry Security!" he yelled.

"Go along," demanded the wizard who had spoken first. "No tricks or it'll be Azkaban for you."

Remus laughed. Azkaban could be no worse than James, Lily, Peter, and Sirius murdered on the same day. The Hit Wizard, though, did not see the humor in the situation. Remus pitied him. "NOW!" the man demanded shakily. "Ministry Security!" Remus said obediently. The flames surrounded him, and he felt hands pulling him from the other side of the fire.

"Take it slow," he was ordered as he was led into a small interrogation chamber. "Sit." Remus sat. The chair was small and wooden, but Remus neither knew nor cared. "Hands behind your back." Remus felt heavy manacles being fastened around his wrists. "Bring the silver closer. He's a werewolf." This last was directed not at Remus but at a thin little witch whose job it must have been to obey the whims of the wizard who had spoken. Nervously, she collected the silver trinkets that were always present (along with jars of garlic and the like) at sites of Ministry justice and set them beneath and around Remus' chair. Remus felt his chest constrict. "Veritaserum!" the Hit Wizard bellowed when she had withdrawn nervously. She paled further, but with shaking hands she fetched a vial of the liquid and held it to Remus' lips. The Hit Wizard, meanwhile, held a wand to Remus' heart. "Swallow." Remus swallowed.

The thin, trembling witch left and returned with several pompous-looking wizards and witches. "This," the Hit Wizard told Remus, "is Cornelius Fudge. He is a junior minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes and was among the first to arrive after the Black-Pettigrew incident a few hours ago." Remus wanted to ask about the Black-Pettigrew incident, but the Hit Wizard silenced him with a glance. "This is Aria Smith-Yate, a junior minister with the Department of Accidental Magic Reversal. She organized the cover-up. And _this_ is Bartemius Crouch of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." The Hit Wizard's voice became smarmy as if to suggest that anyone should be honored to breathe the same air as Barty Crouch. In truth, Remus was indeed impressed that the man was present. He was set to be the next Minister of Magic, and everyone knew it.

"State your name," Crouch began with an air of confidence and supremacy.

"Remus J. Lupin."

"Age."

"Twenty-one."

Crouch stared at him unbelievingly. "I thought you gave him Veritaserum before I arrived."

"We did," defended the Hit Wizard.

"Give him more."

Remus allowed his mouth to be forced open and liquid to be poured inside. He began to feel ill; Veritaserum, particularly pure Veritaserum, was known for its side effects.

"Age," Crouch repeated.

"Twenty-one."

"It makes sense, Sir," interrupted Smith-Yate. "The Potters were twenty-one. And Black and Pettigrew. If they all went to school together--"

"Thank you, Miss Yate-Smith," interrupted Crouch. "If I want your opinion, I shall ask for it." He turned the full of his attention back to Remus. "Vocation."

"None in particular."

"Where have you obtained your recent income?"

"Running errands for Dumbledore. Some teaching and writing educational materials. Some tracking of magical pests. Some decorative charmwork."

"Are you a werewolf?"

"Yes."

"For how long have you been a werewolf?"

"Seventeen years."

"You were admitted to Hogwarts at age eleven while a known werewolf?"

"Yes."

"How long have you known James Potter?"

"Ten years."

"Lily Evans Potter?"

"Ten years."

"Sirius Black?"

"Ten years."

"Peter Pettigrew?"

"Ten years."

"What was Pettigrew's relationship to the Potters?"

"They were friends."

"To Sirius Black?"

"Friends."

"Black's relationship to the Potters?"

"Friends."

"Your relationship to the Potters?"

"Friends."

"Pettigrew?"

"Friends."

"Black?"

"Friends." Remus had been answering the questions in a numb monotone, almost without hearing them. He was unable to summon the energy to suggest that the ministers look in their records if they were so interested in the past of a werewolf. Everything had been marked down. Now, though, he was glad that the question about Sirius had arrived. He had, in some deserted corner in the back of his mind, been afraid that he would not be able to call Sirius his friend even after the man's death. Saying the word now was reassuring, was proof that he had, once, had the gift of a life intertwined with that of Sirius. _Why do I care about that now?_ he asked himself. _He's dead. They're dead. All of them._

"Where are the Potters now?"

"Dead."

"Pettigrew?"

"Dead."

"Black?"

"Dead."

Crouch fixed Remus with an expression of confusion and humorless, self-important mirth. "Give him more Veritaserum," he ordered one of his subordinates.

"No," Remus protested out of turn. The Hit Wizards moved closer. "Don't give me more. I don't feel well. I can't breathe." His voice was a pleading whine, but now that the Veritaserum had taken a vicious hold, he hardly had a choice in the matter.

"More Veritaserum," Crouch repeated. Remus choked on the new dose and coughed his throat raw, wrenching against the manacles that still bound his hands to the back of the chair. "Now," Crouch resumed when Remus was panting and breathless, "Where is Sirius Black?"

"Dead."

"How do you know?"

"He was the Potters' Secret-Keeper. I was in a pub and someone told me that Lord Voldemort--"

There was a collective gasp. "Say 'You-Know-Who,'" demanded Fudge pompously.

"You-Know-Who. Someone told me You-Know-Who killed Lily and James. And Sirius was their Secret-Keeper. He never would have given them up if he hadn't been tortured and killed. Never! He loved Lily. He loved James. He loved Harry. And when the Hit Wizards came to my flat, they asked if I _knew_ Sirius Black. Past tense." Tears began to burn at the back of his eyes once more.

"When was the last time you saw Black?"

"October 14th. In the morning."

"Where?"

"In my flat."

"Why had he come to see you?"

"The full moon was the night before. He wanted to see how I was."

"Did he mention his role as the Potters' Secret-Keeper?"

"Yes."

"Did he seem eager?"

"No. He seemed nervous."

"How so?"

"He said that James was mad because the most powerful wizard in the world was offering to protect them personally and he turned him down." Groggily, Remus wondered if this was something he shouldn't have said. _As if I have a choice in the matter._

Crouch exchanged a dark look with Fudge before continuing. "What did he say about his role as Secret-Keeper?"

"He said he'd take care of them."

"Take care of them," Crouch repeated with cold superiority. "How?"

"By protecting them from You-Know-Who."

"Did he say so specifically?"

"No," said Remus, who, now that he was beginning to feel lucid again, began to doubt whether this line of questioning was relevant. _When is anything ever relevant with the Ministry? Why can't they leave me alone? _"Why can't you leave me alone?"

Now Crouch seemed annoyed. "You will only speak to answer my questions."

"I'm tired," Remus protested. Tired was not the half of it.

"Give him a Caffeine Potion," Crouch ordered the little witch who was still assisting the group.

"That's dangerous when combined with this much Veritaserum!" Remus could not stop himself from protesting. The filter between his mind and his mouth seemed to have been removed, and the resulting feeling was quite disconcerting.

"Perhaps you'll think of that before you interrupt me again." The potion was forced down Remus' throat. "Was Black's behavior ever suspicious?"

"No."

"Did you have reason to suspect his alliance with You-Know-Who?"

Suddenly over-anxious as the new potion began its work, Remus snapped at his interrogators: "_Sirius wasn't allied with You-Know-Who! Sirius would never do that!_"

Crouch turned disdainfully away from Remus. "He doesn't know anything. Yate-Smith, get him to tell you everything he knows about Harry Potter and whatever charms his parents may have put on him. Call me back before you release him." His robes snapped behind him as he left the room.

Smith-Yate picked up the examination where Crouch had left off. "When did you first see Harry Potter?"

"July 31, 1980. The day he was born. What happened to Sirius?" Remus hoped that Smith-Yate was not as fond of keeping control of an interrogation as was Crouch.

Smith-Yate gave him a sympathetic sort of a look. "He was the Potters' Secret-Keeper, as you know. He revealed their whereabouts to You-Know-Who." Remus' body would have slipped from the chair had his hands not been fastened to it. "The Hit Wizards went after him, but Pettigrew got there first. Pettigrew tried to take Black in himself, and of course Black was faster. He killed Pettigrew and about a dozen Muggles who were in his way." Remus tightened his muscles to keep them from shaking. "Then he started laughing. Just laughing! The Hit Wizards didn't have any trouble bringing him in."

"He's still alive?"

"He'll soon wish he wasn't," Fudge interrupted. Fudge's face, too, was sympathy-filled, which was odd considering that the man obviously coveted Crouch's place. "I was one of the first on the scene-- it was terrible. There was nothing left. I've heard that they found one of Pettigrew's fingers, but that's it. Life in Azkaban for Black, no question about it. He as good as killed Lily and James Potter, and he literally killed thirteen more."

The tears that had been lurking behind Remus' eyes chose this moment to spill over. His face heated with embarrassment. Without the use of his hands, he had no way to hide or even wipe his face, and so he sat still, with fresh salty trails forming over those that dried. The interrogation continued. He was asked to recount every moment he had spent in Harry's company and every word James and Lily had said about their son.

Eventually, Smith-Yate and Fudge left, and were replaced by new junior ministers from other departments. Some questions changed, and some stayed the same. The Hit Wizards changed shifts as well, but Remus remained.

After what seemed at once an eternity and no time at all, Crouch returned, looking no more worn than he had previously. A future Minister of Magic knew how to keep up appearances at all costs. Albus Dumbledore walked beside Crouch.

"Professor Dumbledore's testimony matches Lupin's," he informed the guards and questioners. "Sirius Black was the Secret-Keeper. We have enough statements to send him to Azkaban without a trial."

"Do you want us to let Lupin go?" one of the young ministers inquired.

Crouch paused.

"How long have you had him here, Barty?" Dumbledore asked amiably.

Crouch stared at the elaborate clock on the wall for longer than was strictly necessary. "About twelve hours?"

"Twelve hours of constant questioning when he's known to be a personal friend of the victims?" Dumbledore sounded disapproving.

"A personal friend of the villain as well, and a Dark Creature to boot," defended Crouch. "I still cannot fathom why you allowed him into your school--"

"Yes, yes, that's neither here nor there," Dumbledore interrupted pleasantly. "Why not allow him to leave now? You just said that you have all the information you need, and I sincerely doubt that he's going to recall much in his current state."

Remus knew that he should feel gratitude for the aged Headmaster, but he did not. Between potions, silver, shackles, and twelve hours spent unmoving, he doubted that he could stand up, let alone return to his flat.

With a muttered spell by a Hit Wizard, the manacles vanished, and as Remus brought his arms around to the front of his body he heard rather than felt his muscles and bones crackling in protest. He stood carefully on shaking legs, making certain to grasp the back of the chair for balance as he did so. Someone-- he could not tell if it was Dumbledore or one of the Hit Wizards-- cast a spell on him that instantly made his trembling muscles relax to the point that they were under his control. He was able to walk from the room without comment or escort. Dumbledore followed.

"Are you going home, Remus?" he asked as they approached the fireplace.

"Yes," said Remus.

The old wizard handed a pinch of Floo powder to Remus. "I'll come with you. I just want to speak with you for a moment, and then I'll let you alone."

"Good," said Remus in a voice so surly he almost did not recognize it as his own. Contrition and confusion coursed through him "Headmaster--"

"It is all right, Remus. You're still feeling the effects of the potions, and I don't think that you should have an antidote on top of everything else you've ingested today."

The understanding and compassion in Dumbledore's voice infuriated Remus. "Don't look at me that way!" he snapped, and once more he felt guilty for speaking his mind. _Control, control . . . this is a vicious cycle._

"Just step into the fire," Dumbledore commanded gently. Doubting that he had a choice in the matter, Remus did so, and soon he and Dumbledore were standing in his flat.

"It's all true, then?" Remus asked unwillingly. Had it not been for the Veritaserum, he would never have asked. As long as he did not hear the news from Dumbledore's lips, he did not have to accept the news as true. He could convince himself that James, Sirius, and Peter were on extended vacations, or that he had simply grown apart from his childhood friends and did not see them for that reason.

"It's true," repeated Dumbledore. He looked his age for one of very few times in Remus' memory. "I took Harry to his aunt and uncle's house several hours ago."

Remus' eyes flashed with anger he had not known he had the energy to summon. "Not Lily's sister!"

"They're Harry's only living relations."

"She and Lily hated each other!" Remus protested.

"Hate is a very strong word."

"And perfectly appropriate. Isn't there anyone else who could take him?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "This is the best situation."

Remus scowled. "I wish I weren't a werewolf." He also wished that the filter between his brain and his mouth would return. Quickly.

"Sometimes things happen for a reason." Remus snorted at the cold cliché. "Take care of yourself. I expect to see you at the funeral. It will be in two days. You'll get further information when I do."

"I wasn't planning to skip the funeral," said Remus sourly.

"Good. No one wants to see you shut yourself off from the world."

"Am I under surveillance?" he asked with as much rudeness as he could muster.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. And he vanished.

Remus sat down and stared at the wall for two days.

**December 11, 1981: Cold Moon**

The wolf threw itself against the heavy door that kept it from humans to bite and animals to make its companions. Somewhere in its intricate beast-mind, it knew that it had once had companions. It was not tempted to put its feelings into words, as Remus sometimes was, and the part of Remus which remained on this night was deeply grateful.

Remus had walled off and soundproofed this tiny pen in his dilapidated, new flat less than a week after Peter's funeral. His reason for leaving his old flat had been twofold: firstly, it contained memories of a life he had chosen to forget, and secondly, he doubted that he would be able to find paid work on a regular basis now that the war had ended.

When he had moved in, a neighbor had introduced herself and wondered why Remus was not celebrating with friends. _When will the celebrations end?_ "I don't have any friends," he answered.

"Surely that's not so!" she replied, raking her eyes across his form in a way that bordered on lecherous. "I'll be your friend."

Remus shook his head. "I had friends once. It didn't work out." And he proceeded to become as antisocial as was humanly possible. His neighbors, after initial bursts of friendliness, agreeably left him alone. The area was one of the poorest regions of the wizarding world, but not especially unsafe. It was populated by squibs and near-squibs, by eccentrics and the mentally scarred, by students who had refused to finish their educations from lack of interest in school or extreme interest in illegal mood-altering substances. When it rained, the streets were not cleansed but instead smelled more strongly of drugs and refuse. Remus stood out in his neighborhood because he looked rather like he would fit into mainstream society. _If they only knew._

Sooner or later, of course, they _would_ know and Remus would be forced to move on. Luckily, he was in no danger of making his flat a home. He would hardly regret being sent away.

The less interaction he had with other people, the better he liked things. He had been ordered to attend Lily and James' funeral-- not that he would have missed it-- and he had quite unexpectedly been given the opportunity to say goodbye to Harry, who had come to the ceremony with his aunt and uncle. The weight of the day had been oppressive and within a fortnight Remus was virtually unable to recall its details.

Peter's funeral, held on the very next day, had been even worse. While Remus had been left to himself at the Potters' funeral, at Peter's funeral he had been placed in the extremely awkward and painful but impossible to resent position of Peter's mother's last link to her son. Peter's father had been dead many years, and Voldemort had murdered his sister, brother-in-law, and niece. The woman had therefore been inconsolable at the death of her surviving child. The funeral's turnout was as high as Ministry Security would allow, but most of the mourners were co-workers and former classmates who had come to the martyr's funeral because they could. Remus, though, had visited Peter's house on more than one occasion throughout his Hogwarts years, and Mrs. Pettigrew began to sob as soon as she saw him.

Not knowing what to do despite years of experience muttering words of consolation and attending funerals, Remus embraced the woman. She seemed suddenly fifty years older than she had the last time Remus had seen her. _That must have been at James and Lily's wedding._ Mrs. Pettigrew clung to Remus throughout the service. The tributes to Peter were beautiful and stirring, but they made Remus feel cold and bitter.

_Why didn't they say any of this when he was alive? He was always "the fat little boy following James and Sirius around." He was the one who couldn't "be allowed to get away with the things James and Sirius do because he just isn't in their league talent-wise." People stared when he and Lily spent time together at the Ministry because she was too smart and too beautiful and too magical to be his friend. When he was alive, he was an object to be mocked._

_He's dead now._

Remus scowled.

Peter joined James and Lily within the confines of the earth; or rather, a coffin bearing his name joined James and Lily within the confines of the earth. After the explosion, his remains had not been salvageable. Mrs. Pettigrew confirmed to Remus that the rumors of Peter's index finger being preserved and sent home were in fact true. _Disgusting._ Along with the finger had been a posthumous Order of Merlin. _When it came right down to what's important, he was the best of us all._

_Why didn't I know that they were dead? I should have known. I should have been the one to track Sirius down… so much more expendable than Peter. _

_Who'd have thought I'd be the last one left? The only one to survive? WHAT A WASTE!_

Such thoughts filled Remus' brain until the requisite Official Mourning ended. Then, at last having been deemed non-suicidal, he was left to his own devices. He went about the business of ignoring any feelings he might have had about Sirius' betrayal or his other friends' deaths.

One day, as he was arranging his change in location, he happened to walk by a bookstore. He saw a sparking blue-and-white cover, and his stomach lurched even before he was able to place it as one of the baby books that Lily and James had devoured. Stiffly, he entered the shop and slid the book from its display. He read aloud, although under his breath: "At the age of fifteen months, all children will walk backwards, play with a ball, and have a five-word vocabulary. Half of all children will run, draw a line, and adopt 'no' as a favorite word. Some children will climb stairs, 'help' around the house, and put their fingers to their mouths and make a 'be quiet' sound."

Softly, with shaking hands, Remus closed the book. "And one child will defeat Lord Voldemort," he added, before angrily reminding himself that it would be at least ten years before he saw Harry again and that it really didn't matter what Harry did when.

This was not the only time that the written word became his enemy.

Remus had always tended to read the Daily Prophet as soon as it arrived-- such behavior had been necessary if one wanted to remain safe during the war. Without thinking, he picked the paper up the day after Peter's funeral and found, next to the photograph of Peter and Lily standing in front of a Ministry building, a picture of Sirius being led through the gates of Azkaban. _**Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here**_ was inscribed above the gate in strong, bold letters. Every child who grew up in the wizarding world was taught to fear the phrase, the gate, and the fortress.

_Why didn't Sirius fear it?_

_How could he be so different from what he seemed?_

Remus read the article as if he expected to find the answer there. He did not. All he learned was that Sirius had been taken directly to Azkaban without a trial, as Crouch had promised. The article also mentioned that there had been a slight disagreement between Dumbledore and Crouch; Dumbledore had asked to be allowed to speak to Sirius and Crouch had refused. _I should have asked to see Sirius. But I was a bit distracted, with all my other friends being dead! _

He felt infinitesimally better when he read on and learned that Sirius' mind was almost certainly gone and he had not been in a condition to speak to anyone. Glancing back at the photograph, Remus saw that Sirius did indeed look dead-eyed and docile.

_And that's the last energy I'll ever expend on worrying about him. _

_That's it._

_Was I supposed to cry? Scream? Throw things?_

Remus' memories of Sirius remained, but he ignored them. Perhaps some day he would choose to think about them.

The wolf did not choose to ignore, remember, or grieve. The wolf _was_.

The wolf was angry.

He howled in his tiny, soundproofed pen.

X

The lonely howl of a wolf split the air. At least, Sirius assumed that it was lonely.

Lonely.

_I am lonely._

_I am cold._

_I am hungry._

_I am dirty._

_I am sorry._

_Mostly, I am sorry._

_So sorry._

Sirius' thoughts were beginning to take basic form with regard to basic needs. He did not know for how long he would be able to think in this clear, albeit simple, way. He had a feeling that he had come this far in his thoughts before only to become once more confused and unable to remember what he had just thought. Following a rational train of logic was virtually impossible. Each idea flashed across his mind like a still, Muggle photograph, and he was unable to remember what one photograph showed when he proceeded unwillingly to the next.

Some days he tried to kill himself and did not know why. Other days, he knew why but could not find the energy or the means to attempt suicide. Some days he knew his name and other days he did not. Some days, he knew that he was imprisoned in the fortress called Azkaban, and some days he was certain he was in Godric's Hollow.

He had a sneaking suspicion that his thoughts were becoming clearer rather than more convoluted as time passed. Had he been able to analyze the situation, he would have thought this state of things most remarkably odd; dementors were meant to make prisoners lose their sanity, not regain it.

But today, after he knew not how much time in Azkaban, he was able to hear a sound and sound and put a name to it: howl. A wolf's howl.

_Werewolf or true wolf?_

The book-- he did not know what book-- he did not know what a book was-- but he knew that there was something called a book and that it said that a werewolf would never be seen in its human form on the night of the full moon.

Sirius staggered to his window and saw a bright, beckoning light. The moon. The full moon.

Words rushed unbidden into his mind._Wolf Moon Snow Moon Worm Moon Pink Moon Flower Moon Strawberry Moon Buck Moon Sturgeon Moon Harvest Moon Hunter's Moon Beaver Moon Cold Moon._

This must be the Cold Moon. It was certainly cold.

_Wolf. Moon. Remus. _

_Remus! _

He had remembered Remus before, he knew now. Remus was sweet and brave and wonderful and the epitome of all that was good. And he, Sirius, was bad, bad, bad for suspecting Remus.

_Killed Lily. Killed James._

Sirius found himself in a field. He stumbled over an uneven spot in the ground. Looking down, he saw a small white cross, long abandoned and overgrown with weeds. "James?"

"Right here!" Suddenly, powerful claws sprouted from the earth beneath the cross. They wrapped themselves around Sirius' ankles and sought to pull him down. Sirius hollered with pain and fright, and wrenched himself away from his attacker. His effort dragged up a form from below.

Sirius screamed. The skeletal arms and legs were affixed to a naked, blood-drenched head and torso. It was James. "You killed me, Sirius," said James with deathly calm.

"J-- James, I would never betray you!"

"So you always said. You killed my wife! You killed my child!"

"I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!"

"YOU--" James suddenly broke off. The murderous tint that had so unnerved Sirius was replaced by something even more frightening: defeat. "It was my fault. I knew you. I never should have left Lily and Harry to your protection."

"It's not your fault, James. I didn't do it! I didn't give you up! I'd die first!"

James sighed as much as a decaying corpse could. "You never had any self-restraint. You'd say things and do things in fits of passion, and it was all well and good when we were still at Hogwarts and we were just making people laugh. But now . . . you tell me that Moony is a spy. You order me to forget about one of my best friends. BUT YOU WERE WRONG AND YOU WERE STUPID AND YOU WERE WRONG AND YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WASN'T MOONY AND YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THOUGHT YOU WERE SO SMART BUT I WAS THE ONE WHO PAID WITH MY LIFE, SIRIUS! MY _LIFE_! LILY'S _LIFE_!"

"No. No!" Sirius reached out to grasp James and shake him, make him understand that he was wrong, that he couldn't be dead, but James would not listen.

Sirius struck his head against a cold stone floor as he over-balanced. He choked on the dirt and instinctively scrambled to his feet, careening toward the window, reaching for the bar.

He saw it again.

_The moon._

_The Cold Moon._

_Remus._

_A howl._

It might not be real. It might have originated from the prison inside his mind. It might have been the scream of another prisoner. It might be a wolf. It might be a werewolf. It almost certainly was not Remus. Remus was too smart to let himself loose on a night like this, too smart, too smart to go to Voldemort, Sirius killed them, killed them, Sirius was not smart,_smartest in our year, Animagus Transformation . . ._

With a crack, Sirius became Padfoot.

Padfoot whined.

He was cold.

He was lonely.

He was hungry.

He was dirty.

Things were less complex to Padfoot.

Padfoot remembered Moony. Sirius felt his mind shift, assert itself though he was in dog form. Once upon a time it had been easier to think as a human. This was not once upon a time.

_Moony thinks he's the last one. He's wrong. He thinks it's impossible. _

_One day he'll believe the impossible._

_He will._

The wolf howled.

Padfoot howled.

_They think I was the Secret-Keeper. _

_WORMTAIL! THE RAT!_

_That's why I'm here._

_But I'm innocent._

Padfoot cocked his head and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would not be forgetting himself again for a long, long time. He changed forms once more, and Sirius stared out the window at the Cold Moon.

"My name is Sirius Black," he informed it. "And I am innocent."

**The End**

This story has a sequel called _Interim_, which covers Peter's time spent as a rat; Remus' time spent teaching at Hogwarts; and Sirius' time spent on the run. _Interim _is complete and posted here at FF.N; visit my profile page to find it.

**Auxiliary Disclaimer**: _The slogan over the gates of Azkaban is from Dante's __Inferno _

**Other Auxiliary Disclaimer: **_Remus' comment that he had friends once and it didn't work out is stolen from the gloriously campy series "The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr." I hadn't seen the series for years when I stole the line to write this, but its brilliance has since been transferred to DVD and I realized where the line "came from."_

**Not Exactly a Disclaimer: **_The chapter titles are Native American names for full moons. No, it doesn't make much sense that MWPP would know them. At one point, someone stole this story and presented it on another site as her own work. She claimed that the chapter titles were Old English, so I thought I'd clear up any confusion so the next thief would sound less like an idiot.  
_

**Author's Note:**_ Thank you to my reviewers, particularly those on FF.N who serve as beta-readers to someone too impatient to have a real beta-reader. _

**Note of Revision:**_This was reposted in October 2007, six years after the original writing, to improve formatting and make a few minor changes to enhance canon-compliance. Obviously, this fic has been AU since the publication of OotP, and I haven't made (and won't make) the major changes needed to make it otherwise. Gosh, I miss the days when I thought my ending was kind of upbeat because I thought the worst would be behind Sirius once he escaped from Azkaban..._


End file.
